Shooting Blind I pressed my eye against the viewfinder and took a few test shotssome bluish-purplish hydrangeas near the front stairs, a butterfly, the cluster of walnut trees on the edge of the parking lot. I've always been impressed by the way my Nikon D1x picks up detailsthe texture of the hydrangea leaves, the lacy patterns in the butterfly's orange and white wings, the dappled sunlight that danced between the leaves of the trees and speckled the grass. It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon, and the perfect day for a wedding.Shooting Blind by cougirl94
I got The Phone Call about a week ago. I was in the middle of doing laundrysome marinara stains had magically appeared on my favorite cozy sweaterand trying to email my bank, and I was more than a little flustered when I answered the phone.
"Hello?" It sounded less
Critique Our ThoughtsI am a jailed brain.Critique Our Thoughts by FatherGrimm
I am instincts leftover like the pasta from last night.
I am a ghost of what remains of a great idea destroyed by thought.
I am whatever remains of sex and hunting and defecating in the woods.
I am bored.
I find fleeting release in gym class and video games,
Moments where I'm engaged for short bursts and want to keep the fight going.
In gym, the struggle to strut.
In games, the dream it's all real.
It might as well be.
No wonder your kid (which I have no love for) rises in the night to sit,
Skin flickering in front of the television,
And splatter the virtual heads of other 3am sons and daughters against the virtual walls, spilling the virtual blood of their virtual enemies.
No wonder fights break out over ultimate frisbee and primal eyes shoot daggers
At the deer-in-the-headlights gaze of the jerk
Who just slapped that floating spinning hope of ten points out of the air,
And fists ball up like armadillos or rolly pollies--digging nails into your palm, like Christ.
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