http://slow.writerscafe.org/BrittanyJade The original writings of author Brittany en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775984166 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15   They stood in the kitchen, discussing Murphy's Law. "See," she said, "I'll butter this bread and let it fall. It will land, butter-side down. Bet you a hundred dollars." He squinted at her, as if trying to figure out if she was serious. "No, I believe you." He said, trying not to laugh.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/953145/   I blame the James Dean portrait. It was the starting point for the long list of events that led up to my mother's death. Mother owned a framed print of Dean, roughly three feet high, and two across. She had wanted to hang it in the spare room. I remember how my m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/945315/  They were spending the afternoon talking about the demographic in Helena, Montana. "It's unbelievable, the ignorance here." He says. "Everyone is a geriatric, a Bible-thumper, or both." He tells her he's working on a science-fiction novel, that he's "hard-core" into Scientology. He's.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/903919/   He would get a letter from her every two weeks. The day was never certain, adding an element of surprise. He hated surprises. His heart would skip a beat, then quicken, like it was trying to compensate for that unsightly pause. He didn't trust his body. He thought hearts were disgusting .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/903895/ He found an old notebook and tore out the pages thathad lists of things to buy, to do- things he needed, and things he didn't.He wrote "Ideas" on the third page. He found the notebook 2 years later, blank except the third page.He tore this out as well, and proceeded to make a new list. He titled it".. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/863597/     your face is falling off in tones like                                      &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/762513/          How many times a night will you give me a heart attackyou yell for me                            in a m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/608778/    We were in our robes. I sneezed. She looked at me and didn't say anything. I tried not to notice the stain on her collar.  I was drinking cold coffee. She was drinking cabernet.  Her skull-cap was crooked.  I tried not to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/605230/   Naked, they laid down on the antique bed.  Looking at him she felt like she was in prison. Lying with her he felt like it was a conjugal visit. The street light dissects through the blinds, casting bars on their bare skin. His eyes dis.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/603328/    curl your lips around my name like a hand on a loaded gun.pretend it's a bullet down the barrel, and shoot the dirt away from your bones. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/601400/    "If you love me," she said, "put your soul on your fists. Then prepare to fight." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/601397/    He loved her because she was unlike anyone he'd ever known.She loved him because he was just what she always wanted.He wrote her love letters she could not interpret.And she gave him gifts he had no use for.When they woke in the morning, they shared the middle of the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/600977/    "The only thing worth writing about is love." He told her. "I don't believe that." She replied. Deep down, she loved that he'd said it. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/600972/       http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/600970/    Her hair was growing back. It crept over her head and out as eye lashes in a faint silver. She liked to sit outside at night, when the street lamps went on timers, and the rythmic flickering steadied her troubled lungs. More often then not, I liked to keep her company. Even i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/597104/   "I'm everything I'd hoped to be, at this point in my life." He'd said. "I've gone everywhere I'd hoped to go, by this time in my life." She replied. He wished he knew where she was at, at this point. While she wished she knew who he was, at this time. Looki.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/592765/    I carved you out of wood andburned the shadows in your faceI fashioned your mouth around a knot andfound a hidding place in your grains  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/590984/    the storm broke branches from the willowswe tore off the last leafy green, andate from each other's palmsthe leaves were evidence around our mouthsmaking our doe eyesand ears and faces, seemridiculousa clap of thunder sounds, another one comingand the c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/585886/                   (I've held many dreams growing up. I've rolled them around in my hands, made them maleable in my thoughts. My white-knuckle grip imprinting the whorls of my identity in each of them.) .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/583045/    Bones pull down withthe weight of gravity- and intervalsof atrophy leave us rustyknuckled, bent backed, andsallow cheeked Eyes grow dim and lose sightof that sparkle only innocence andtenderness can bring The things we buildsucceed us, because.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/582372/   we piled our rocks by the doortangible pieces of ourselves- to collectand show us when we wokethe next day, thatwe were still here many lugged boulderssome brought small skipping stonesi threw pebbles into the heaphoping to be under-estimated my pebble.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/582113/   getting drunk and ready to fightyour hands smell like cigarette smokeyou trace 'I'm sorry' down the curve of my jaw my kisses smell like cheap whiskeybut they say"I'm sorry too" we drink to our short-comingsmaking a silent pactnot to talk of them&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/581836/    I can see his reflection in the bathroom mirror, as he stands in the doorway. "You're not clean enough. Keep going until I say 'stop'." I'm sitting in my bathtub. The water is so hot- everything below my pre-pubescent chest is turning red, while everything above is goose-bump.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/581810/   The trees die off near the top of the hill, reminding me of receding gum-lines. The sun hits the toothy grin and I pass by undetected. I smile back and light a cigarete.  I'm zoning out on open road. My freedom is a stretch between point A and point B. Once I get to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/580005/   She was not aware of the July heat. She also didn't notice the sweat collecting in the swell of her back. However, Summer did notice the way her toes curled. It made her think of dog-earred pages in harlequin novels. The sand was rough against her soft skin, providing a delightful co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/579985/    we teeter down cotton-mouth trailsour tongues shriveled tissues wedesperately clutch, in case urges to cry or moan beat us both http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/578014/       We were sitting in the kitchen when my phone rang. She had started packing but had given up after an hour. Cardboard boxes were covering every imaginable surface. We were in the middle of a disagreement- a daily habit of ours. I cut her off by raising my pointer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/577035/ May 24, 2009 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/562981/ May 17, 2009 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/562976/  The Blackfoot River Brewery held people on its' balcony like bacon in a frying pan. Every minute or so we'd shift, turn, expose new, tender flesh to the sun. I was drinking Mai Bock.  On the next roof over was a paper bird tied to a flag-pole. The wind caught it and it took off.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/562948/   Giant Springs.  The clouds were so low that day. Their shadows painted the hills and the beetle-kill trees. 'Calico' I kept thinking to myself. I watched as my friends wandered further and further up the trail, stopping and stooping every so often. They were on a m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/562441/   I'm walking down the shoe aisleSize 6two girls behind me "El Oh El" I hear one say"Oh Em Gee" the other one replies (Jesus Christ) I think. I turn the corner and catch a glimpseof a bright pink blue high-heeled messboth red in the mouththirteen .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/559106/       a dog is barking down the streetit sounds like a shihtzu(arf)i glow and make an emberon the dying end of my american cigarette              (arf arf)in my head, Marvin Gayei'm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/556191/ He tells me "...barely any meat on them bones". Cackling. I pull the film forward then back, singe it with the heating rod. Tuck in the corners. Feel satisfaction. Drop it on the hot-plate. Tag it. Feel like a mortician.  "Every man likes meat on them bones. Ain't nothin' you .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/556076/    i am unaffected. which is alright because, i am not effective. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/555850/  She was smoking a Pall Mall Blue. In her winter-coat, a crooked scarf covering her freshly shaven head. Her hand trembled as it made its' way to her lips. She told me we didn't need the television. The neighbors were entertaining enough. The man across the street has no hands. Just .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/555844/   I wonder if the hummidity in the Coin-Op has anything to do with the tanning rooms.Past the dryers are two doors, seperated by a long 'folding table'. On the right, Women get the 'Bahama Room' while on the left, the  'Acapulco Room' is reserved for the men. I can.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/555319/   Something                           was terribly wrong. The blinds fragment ed the          &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/555021/  (I should buy a paisley shirt. So I can blend into the walls. I would rather be heard, not seen.)   She was loosing her white blood-cells.So she drank boxed wine. Franzia. The red kind. It put a sparkle in her eye. I came up with some good hemoglobin j.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/554549/   Jesus is holding his arms open for everyone. He now resides on a billboard entering Priest Pass on I-90 East. The billboard used to be part of the great Meth Campaign. I know more about meth than I do about Jesus.  Not Even Once. And that's a fact. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/554509/   The trailer was old. It smelt like someone's bad cooking forty years prior. The previous owner was disabled, in a wheel-chair. Metal bars were strategically aligned in the shower, on the walls. The bathroom reeked like piss. The floor around the toilet was stained. Across the ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/554494/  Five oxygen tubes. Intervals narrowing, widening, narrowing.         Pssst. Five mouths.Dependent. Pssst. Like a secret. The tubes and tanks, keys, nozzles. Pssst.        &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/554344/    One word would change everything between them.    http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/554153/ July 2, 2009 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/553735/ May 19, 2009 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/553729/ May 19, 2009 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/553726/  The trains are hollerin' again.        http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/553697/   He tells me he had once boarded a burning train on purpose. I ask if he wants cream in his coffee. "I'll put my cream in your coffee." He makes a sound which I can only describe as a snarf.  Reaching past his pot-belly, he furiously rubs his groin... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/552974/  On soft in the backgroundPiano keys like a tweaked Dali ‘stacheI’m thinking of past exchangesCurrency from the dash and center console (were)Silver pebbles we threw in the well Best wishes for our habits http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/552873/   I'm in bed with Old Latrobethe green glass cool and wet on my lips  I feel hopes dyingand dreams disappointingand the amber is bitterbiting the back of my teeth The train is coming down the trackslike barrels on bonesthe whistle screams .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BrittanyJade/552839/