By Chad Eschman
If there’s one thing I could tell you, if there’s one piece of advice I could leave to you, if there was only one thing I could say that might help you in your life, it would be this: if someone wants to let you go, you go, and you go as far as your billfold will get you. That was the mistake I made. I stuck around.
Gina was beautiful. She was commanding, both in the bedroom and in her career in corporate marketing. She never took no for an answer, and she made the best damn Manhattan on the whole planet. She also enjoyed getting high and playing croquet on the lawn. I don’t think we ever played it right, though. Basically, we just set the wickets out and started knocking the balls until one of us fell over.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/21 at 10:25 AM
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By Chad Eschman
From: sweetysparkle23@zilkmail.com
Subject: I love my FollowSpot™ Bot!
Date: 2008 February 13 9:37:54 PM PST
To: agomson@digifeed.com
dear mr. gomson,
wow. i’ve had my followspot bot for 2 weeks now (my parents got me one for my 14th, i was so pumped!) and i just want to say i totally luv it! :) everyone at school is way jealous, except my bestie, matsie, cuz she has 1 too cuz her dad ran over her cat elvis and she was super sad so he bought her one, but hers is ufo silver, and mine is the new purple crush, so yah.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/11 at 01:11 AM
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By Christopher Longoria
between homes. at home and left home. rode into a rushing world after throwing badges down in the dirt and dusting off old ones. watched the people’s faces at home. the years slowly chiseled into their timeless expressions. it is peaceful there, though pain does not elude us. my feet dug into sand as the water drew out to the gulf, as if the land itself wrapped around my ankles commanding me to stay. i dissolved in the stark orange sunset and remember my home is love. an endless gush of warmth. old friends remain friends, old roads lead to the same places, old memories recalled in stories told with a sepia voice. brown is red and much of the food is yellow and light orange. and i am full in every way that makes me a human being.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/07 at 12:15 AM
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By Jouko van der Kruijssen
Wednesday night was Eighties Night at Paradiso. Until that night I had managed to avoid Amsterdam’s most popular students’ night out on Wednesdays, but this time my presence was required. Not just for any reason, not just for any girl. She could very well be the love of my life if I could keep her from being the love of Lars’s life that night. I knew it was a bad idea, but I joined her, Lars, and the rest of the gang for a night of dancing to tunes that hadn’t been gone for long enough yet.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/07 at 12:09 AM
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Fiction •
By Chad Eschman
Ernie. Ernie Finklebat. Er. Nie. Fink. Le. Bat. Even his name makes me want to induce a vomit. He was JoJo’s friend, and from the first moment I met this tool I hated him. His brown leather jacket. His indie-emo-sweep hair. His prickly, dirty, pathetic attempt at a beard. But JoJo liked him. “He’s got good points, you know, he has moments.” Moments? I don’t drive a car that works at “moments.” I don’t drink beer that gets me drunk at “moments.” I don’t use soap that cleans me at “moments.” And I don’t like pricks like Ernie Finklebat. Besides. I never saw any moments.
Now, guests are always welcome in my home. I have an open door on both my porch and my fridge, I’m accommodating, I like company. But you don’t park in my driveway. You don’t. Ever. Not JoJo, not Ellie, not Tomson, not Gus, not Patsky, and certainly not Ernie.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/07 at 12:07 AM
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By Jenn Zipp
Adam.
It all started with a boy named Adam. He was the son of a family friend, a woman I was forced to call Aunty Patsy even though we had no blood connection. Which would make Adam my un-biological cousin… which makes this story more like a forbidden tale of incestuous love… or something.
Adam was my downfall. He’s the curiosity that killed the cat and has led me down this weird shame spiral I know as my fascination with men… but in particular; the male genitalia.
On weekends, Momma would watch Adam while his parents went to the doctors, which I later found out was grown-up talk for couple’s therapy. Adam would come over and sulk at the breakfast nook, convinced that his parents were off getting ice cream together without him. By mid day, he’d break out of whatever funk he was in, eat the slices of apple that Momma would cut for us, and take out his aggressions on me by making my life horrible.
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Posted by The Better Blog on 06/07 at 12:05 AM
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