We mixed it with coke and read aloud the only play we had with two copies. “Thrift, Horatio!” “To a nunnery, go!” We stumbled, spake, drew swords. Morning found retched scrambled eggs on my bedroom rug. No method in it but friendship.
We mixed it with coke and read aloud the only play we had with two copies. “Thrift, Horatio!” “To a nunnery, go!” We stumbled, spake, drew swords. Morning found retched scrambled eggs on my bedroom rug. No method in it but friendship.
The Inane Ramblings of a Fractured Mind
Musings on Physics (among other things)
writing Reading 5X5
Juggling writing and life
a journal of poetry, flash fiction, and art
I write stuff.
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for flights of flash fiction fancy
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Now, he thought, I must think about the drag. It has its perils and its merits. -- Hemingway
Fiction by Stan Cornerstone
Sometimes I write things. Sometimes I wanna share.
Christine Hanolsy, Author
histories
You had me at Hamlet, but I especially love this line: “We stumbled, spake, drew swords.”
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Oh those retched eggs though!
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Yeah, sorry about that image.
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