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November, 2007

Blake’s by Douglas A. Martin



Fiction

Blake's is selected from THEY CHANGE THE SUBJECT I was invited to vacation with his family. They were going to go to the beach at Tybee Island this time, and then on to Savannah, where the movie based on that book was about to start shooting. This book had made Savannah a popular tourists’ spot of late, and this was…
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1.11.07: MYSTERIOUS TRUMPETING INDUCES DISTURBING REFLECTIONS W. JOHN HODGMAN AND DARIN STRAUSS



KGB Live

John McCaffrey "Blogging (and Clogging) is Such Sweet Sorrow." -- William "Clyde" Shakespeare Darin Strauss, John Hodgman, and The Co-presidents of Their Fan Club 1.11.07: "I'd just like to know where it's coming from?" was all Susan Chi, editor of KGB BAR LIT managed to mutter between bites of a cold falafel she'd smuggled into the event. "IT" was the…
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10.7.04 Elise Blackwell and Porochista Khapour



KGB Live

Humor and Baltica (Russian beer) flowed in equal amounts among the jeans-and-glasses wearing crowd at KGB on Sunday for the reading of Elise Blackwell and Porochista Khakpour. Blackwell read first from her novel Grub about the publishing industry, which was based on the Victorian-ear novel New Grub Street by George Gissing. The intelligentsia at KGB were at attention, seemingly dazzled…
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Twelve Fundamentals



Fiction

First there is what matters. Once it matters it is measured. Measured as mass.  Mass is the amount of matter in an object. For example, in a rifle.  In relations of matter and mass, celestial location is inconsequential. A rifle in the spheres is a rifle in Akron. Second, distinguished from mass, weight is the tug of gravity on a…
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Aftershocks



Fiction

You asked how we met. It was a raw night in January. I had stopped at the Viper Room near closing time. A cold martini in my hand was all that stood between me and the fog on Sunset and the steep walk home to my empty apartment. I was hoping to get drunk enough to ask Tess the bartender…
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The Man Who Could See Radiance



Fiction

Before he saw radiance, he saw the way we all see.  He saw his wife Rachel as threatening or contributing to his equili-brium; an irritation or, sometimes, someone he loved so that touching her was like touching the source of all metaphor, making his mind gasp and his mouth open.  It’s not something he ever put into words, what that…
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Fruit Salad



Fiction

Men aren’t meant to be young, said the man who’d given his age as thir - forty-one. He shrugged off the false start, smiled slightly - small, borrowed, theatrical gestures that said, Had I been planning to lie? Or had I merely forgotten? He was two years into his fifth decade but not so long versed in saying it aloud.…
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