Going Ghost_Diana Princess of Themyscira, Clark Kent, and Batman_Wingbeat_Misplaced Ideology
Catalog Guide:
Going Ghost
The unemployment rate in the United States hovers around 10 percent. It's not the highest it has ever been, but many people are out of work, short on cash, and limited with their options. There's a sense of hopelessness in the country, and it's bleeding into every corner of twww.onedoor.cche world. The television news pundits are all predicting more of the same. It's a recession, and the government is out of moves to control the downward spiral.To make matters worse, a war in Eastern Europe has spilled out into neighboring countries, threatening not just a world war but a nuclear one. A war to end all futur...
Diana Princess of Themyscira, Clark Kent, and Batman
Sunday. Afternoon. She was immersed in And Quiet Flows the Don. She did not mind the lengthy Russian classics, overwhelmed with the never-ending tragedy. It was snowing outside. She had a coffee cup on her nightstand, which was already half empty. The thought of making more of it brought a smile to her face. The comfort of her pajamas, the softness of her bed, the — The alarm goes off. This shit again. The alarm system going off was a weekly, sometimes daily occasion. She always forgot to call someone to fix it. Checking the cameras, without expecting to see anything, she freezes. For a spli...
Wingbeat
You don’t know where you are or how you got here, only that there’s a mangled body at your feet and a trophy the size of a bowling pin in your fist. You’re not sure which one tips you off that this is your handiwork: the splash of crimson stark against the gold of the trophy, or the fact that your gag reflex responds by adding more bodily fluids to the crime scene. Evidently, you’re fond of chili dogs.Like your composure, the trophy slides out of your grasp. THUMP. Going fetal sounds like a pretty good idea, but glass shards litter the floor like stars in the sky and the swivel chair by the ma...
Misplaced Ideology
“Lost in the rain in Juarez, and it’s Easter time too.” The lyric seeking a place to find acceptance as the temperature neared 100 degrees. The narrow road evaporating in the heat, the yellow dashes dictating compliance, meld together as oasis form in the undulating wafts from the tar, as they rise to add discomfort to a marginally blue sky. The ocean no longer a promise but an illusion of itself, waits somewhere in the compartmentalized place in my mind where relief is no longer what you hope it to be, but has become a necessity as the ground is too hot to remain standing upon. We seek shelt...