The Featured Post Blog

A collection of the featured posts as they appeared on mo'time

by: joshuakatcher

These boys are mendacious. They are kleptomaniacs. Instruction booklets. I open random pages. Blank. The heat is resolute. July hits the streets and everything is rotting like the garbage bags outside my window.
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posted by: howard at 01:46 | link | comments |

by: InMyLife

Don't take this personally...
...because it's not about you. Or you. Not you either. Not even you. It's about me.

Addressed to a composite you. The you-that-is-not-me-you. The you-who-thinks-you-understand-me-you. The you who tells me what I think and then tells me where these thoughts originated and then tells me you understand or I'm full of it or I need to take a drink or a pill or get screwed or anything that is the verbal equivalent of patting me on the head and sending me on my way.
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posted by: howard at 23:09 | link | comments |

by: gongli

I'm writing this in B's kitchen.  It's late at night. B is asleep. The refrigerator is noisy. I  feel the presence of something, something I haven't felt in a long time,  (sort of like when Darth Vader sensed the presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi on the Death Star in the first episode of Star Wars), something whose absence I have noted in the  kitchen of every apartment, rooming house and home I  have lived in since leaving  my parent's house. And that something is (drum roll...)
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posted by: howard at 10:25 | link | comments |

by: milktea

What do I say to a parent of a baby that looks like a sleeping and hairless tomato? Would it make my colleague mad if I say would your baby turn into a large tomato someday or would it be safer to say oh how cute your baby is even if I didn't mean to?
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posted by: howard at 00:43 | link | comments |

by: Yoshick

This is actually my first time in an internet cafe, and it is so hard to look at the keys while I type on this european/arabic keyboard.  Which rather kills my usual wordy nature.  Happily though, the currency is so overvalued that a dollar gets me two whole hours.  And having just successfully asked someone in my broken Spanish how to get the comma key to work, I am all set to ramble in the relative comfort of this dark little cafe.
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posted by: howard at 01:52 | link | comments |

by: icedish

Today was a banner day, one of my best thus far this winter.  For starters I saw some decent auroras.  I must admit the south pole has somewhat spoiled me on auroras.  But, these were pretty good for this neck of the woods.  And truthfully any aurora is worth laying eyes on.  These were green and spread over most of the horizon.
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posted by: howard at 09:22 | link | comments |

by: CrazyHoss

Long story extremely short, I dress to hide my overweight. As I grow, my choices are necessarily limited. Thrift-shop and yard sale jeans (to my credit, I have made a couple of impressive scores this past month, all in sizes thirteen and fifteen), men's shirts that hang to mid-thigh. Sunglasses, if I can find them, a pair that is over fifteen years old. Then there is the matter of the wallet and the bag: if it has more than three compartments, I am inevitably confused. I could riff on how this confusion impacts society at large, and perhaps a snowflake in Tibet will land extra-hard and set off a landslide. I have been entertaining the concept of the celestial body: regardless how we look, or think we look, in earth-time, none of that will matter once we've ascended to sit with the Lord. Aware that some people will be put off, or sent into gales of mirth, by my mentioning JC here, I must nonetheless aver--pray and try, try and pray--that my extra twenty and chin hairs won't mean a thing when I finally meet my loved ones in mid-air.
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posted by: howard at 22:42 | link | comments |

by: calgal

Bulgarian Wrestlers Tried to Pick Me Up

Yes, whilst in the checkout lane at Superstore, I was chatted up by two very big, heavily accented men. That would not have been such a strange occurrence when I was 25, but at 53, it is not an everyday kind of thing.

I think it was the diamond studs. Or maybe it was the Mother Jones tee-shirt...
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posted by: howard at 16:26 | link | comments |

by: MissSolitaire

See.

Such a pretty show, a year in turning and tumbling – the place where the leaves folded colors and fell – and you in some window high above the unceasing streets, how you kept looking. He will never walk down this way again, appearing that way for once, and abruptly stopping; so like your heart.
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posted by: howard at 13:03 | link | comments |

by: shallowdeep

cold on the inside today, nothing revealed.  slender words, no response.  she looks great though.  cheekbones high, round and angular.  not the gaunt model variety.  warm pools slide to brilliant vacant eyes.
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posted by: howard at 23:52 | link | comments |