Comments Posted By Belinda Roddie
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She spent each waking moment waving to the mailman, waving to her neighbors as they puttered by on their scooters. She wouldn’t stop waving – her wrist cracked and propped with each swivel of it, her fingers stiff and numb in the winter morning air, that constant slight swish of self-made breeze as her hand moved back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until she lost feeling in her arm entirely.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.19.2017 @ 7:41 pm
In my backpack were the makings of a dilapidated second home. I had the proper tools, and now all I needed was to invade Mother Nature’s bosom and extract the remaining shards of wood and foliage that still grew within that earthen, metaphorical cleavage. I fetched a hammer and my pocket knife, and once all the pounding and whittling was done, I had a roof away from the rain, and I could eat my last bagged dinner in peace.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.18.2017 @ 3:44 pm
It was the kind of movie that had been intentionally stylized to be over the top – an 80’s kid’s wet dream as everything from leggings to bad hair to Belinda Carlisle to NES console games popped up onscreen. The story itself was straightforward, reminding its viewers of the many tales of teenage love and friendship as seen in the already established classics. The director, of course, was proud of his work, and the screenwriter was, too – after all, they were both tormented by the daggers of nostalgia.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.17.2017 @ 3:46 pm
They told her that she didn’t deserve to stay on welfare, and they told me that I ought to take her in and make an honest woman out of her. After all, I had both the money and the connections – may as well as put her through some sort of “rehabilitation,” right? But the truth was, she didn’t need me, and I didn’t need her. She could manage just fine with the scraps of government aid she received, and in the meantime, she was too proud – too headstrong, justifiably so – to ask for any sort of alms from a more financially successful person.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.15.2017 @ 3:40 pm
The clash of titans turned out to be little more than a quarrel of pygmies, all of the mightiest of gods turning out to be something but a few broken shadows bickering for a small scrap of territory within the Mediterranean. In the end, we watched sheepishly as the deities we idolized shrunk to the heights of children, arguing and prodding each other’s chests as their true natures were unveiled like a body stripped of its bejeweled flesh.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.13.2017 @ 9:22 pm
Look at all the corporate lobbyists, milling about the foyer, drinking bad wine and wearing ill-fitted and poorly tailored suits. That one sot over there is on his fifth glass, and the top button of his jacket wants to be free and fly into the horizon due to his ever expanding gut. In the meantime, I do well in a three piece, and I’m not even representing any particular client – I’m just enjoying the opportunity to observe the most pandering of pseudo-entrepreneurial souls.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.12.2017 @ 12:41 pm
Stay alert. Stay informed. Keep a knife under your pillow. Store a chainsaw beneath your bed. Sew your eyes shut to get better sleep. Then undo the stitches in order to see the morning light again.
Get your news from the bottom of a teacup. The seers know better than the journalists do. Then sharpen each blade and kiss them softly. If the beasts come again tonight, you are ready.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.11.2017 @ 2:40 pm
I have a special announcement, my friends! Starting next week, you are all entitled to spend at least one hour a week with me, basking in the awesome glow of my presence at least for one fraction of your otherwise abysmal day. Just doing my service as a truly miraculous individual whom this community just couldn’t manage without! Just don’t call or text me – I only like human contact when I plan it, and I just don’t like some of you.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.10.2017 @ 9:37 pm
I was the writer, the editor, and the publisher in this world. I ran the companies and the distributors and all of the bookstores. I used every single pseudonym I could think of to cram the shelves with tomes all of my own. And no one reading them – no devourer of words, no so-called scholar or pendant of literature – would be able to tell the difference.
They said that books were a lost art. I had revived them. And now I brought every existing page to life.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.09.2017 @ 3:32 pm
I got a haircut just for my anniversary. I took her out to a nice dinner and ate enough for three. Sweet cake and champagne to make the night that much better. Top it off with city life with really nice weather. I am stronger from the marriage that I have with my wifey, and I hope she’ll stick with me for the rest of my lifey!
Happy Anniversary, babe. Love ya!
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.08.2017 @ 10:16 pm
She was a juvenile delinquent, a criminal at sixteen. She was a fraudster, an embezzler, and a con artist all at the age of sixteen. She had managed to steal fifteen million dollars from American citizens, through tricks and schemes – all at the young, adolescent age of sixteen. And she was to be tried as an adult.
Was it worth it? It had been one of the best weeks of her life.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.06.2017 @ 7:25 am
It is so, so very tempting right now to chug an entire bottle of Fireball and do cartwheels until I tumble off a bridge into the deepest part of the bay. There, I will become a drunken mermaid – the most intoxicated of them all – and eat starfish and drink brine for the rest of my days. Because let’s get serious here: The world above the water is a bit too warm, and a bit too noisy, and just full of really, really nasty people.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.04.2017 @ 4:43 pm
I wanted to invite Stacey to my party, but she was sick with the flu. I wanted to invite Tracey to my party, but she had to study for a test the following Monday and couldn’t be disturbed. I want to invite Lacey to my party, but she had been secretly recruited on an undercover mission to assassinate the president of some country I hadn’t heard of named Satvania, and she wouldn’t be back until the deed was done and “Winter had fallen across Europe.” So I guess that was a valid excuse.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.03.2017 @ 1:41 pm
I saw her reflection in the glass, fading quickly away. I reached out for her hand, but it was nothing but particles of dust collected in the air. As I hovered around the mirror, I felt the warmth of the morning on my back again; soft, sensitive rivulets of light tiptoed their way into the room, leaving their fingerprints and paintings along the carpet. I felt my knees sink into the red plush, and softly, I began to weep.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.01.2017 @ 8:32 pm
Finish your burger, drink your beer, and don’t forget to tip your waitress. She’ll spend it on soem groceries so she can make ham sandwiches for lunch for the next two weeks. And then she’ll smell like mustard and relish, and she’ll have to douse herself in deodorant and perfume, just so fat f***s like you enjoy her company and her service as she works in this filthy, garage-like hellhole where the ale is cheap and room temperature and the food’s got a mind of its own.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.29.2017 @ 7:28 am
The numbers were staggering, and all the investors, and all of the CEOs, and all of the hedge fund managers couldn’t believe their eyes. Their mouths hung slightly open as they watched the exchange, and bit by bit, their souls sank deeper into their lower extremities, descending into the depths of their ankles and threatening to escape and find freedom from the crevices of their toes.
No one saw this disaster coming. Except for the accountants, of course – they always knew. They smiled over their glasses and reminded themselves that they always knew.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.28.2017 @ 7:40 am
Mary Mason was extra cranky and irritable this morning, so she decided to go to the grocery and curse out the nearest scrawny and pubescent clerk she could find. Instead of an adolescent loser trying to make enough money to buy a new bicycle, however, was a woman whom Mary fell totally and absolutely in love with. With her red curls and gray eyes, she simply nodded cordially to the grouchy forty-something before scanning her candy bar and bottle of wine – no cheesy and fake smile to be seen.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.27.2017 @ 1:00 pm
The way the stranger walked toward me was like something out a badly produced Western – back arched like an angry cat’s, boots sliding in the dry dirt, the wind picking up around the wide brim of his hat. I was ready for a tumbleweed to come out of nowhere in this no man’s land just to accentuate the awkward scene unfolding before me.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.26.2017 @ 7:17 am
I can’t relate; I can’t contend. I cannot see or comprehend. I can pretend I know it all, but that just ain’t the truth.
I can’t regard in esteem. I can’t make real worlds out of dreams. It all may seem so easy, but there’s questioning – no proof.
I make my mind up to depart. You never will regain my heart. I’ll just restart around the bend. With you, I can’t relate, my friend.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.25.2017 @ 1:42 pm
The men ran the factory like clockwork – all its odds and ends were taken care of. But the women ran the business like water – smooth and fluid and calm. Unlike the metaphor of clanking gears and chiming bells, the imagery of a rippling river seemed more succinct. And in the end, the profits were at an all time high the next corner, and all held responsibility for the success. And thus, there was beer for everyone!
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.23.2017 @ 9:33 pm
They say that if you find the fields of dying wheat just outside town, you’ll catch a glimpse of a colony, where the inhabitants are almost human. They dig holes in the dirt where it’s dry and yields no fruit or life, and when night falls, each ditch glows as if lit by a thousand embers or laughing fireflies.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.21.2017 @ 9:16 pm
Why is it that we dread the day we see our fathers’ ghosts again? They all gather in the same beer hall to drink and tell bad jokes and stories. I know one friend whose father fell from the roof one night while he was inebriated by cider and whiskey and whimsical dreams. I thought maybe that the dreams hit him harder than the alcohol ever did. Perhaps it’s better to close the door and have our second round at another pub.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.20.2017 @ 7:45 pm
Here is my house of worship, and here is my place at the pew. Here is the bowl of wafers and the chalice of very, very weak wine. It glistens golden in the light that glows from the stigmata in Christ’s palms. Somehow, his fingers weave together as the splinters procreate among his knuckles.
I am praying for a safe haven in a haven that no longer feels safe. The priest is talking to the altar boys in the next room. He is sweating around his collar.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.20.2017 @ 5:19 pm
Do you know how to play the harmonica? Do you know how to pluck the banjo? Do you know how to massage the neck of a cello and make it purr like a feline damsel? Do you know how to make people stop in their tracks on their way to the general store, have them turn their heads just so their ears catch more of that sweet, swampy melody? Crack open a drink or two for the ambiance, and then let the natural twang take over all.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.19.2017 @ 9:39 am
I only had sixty-two dollars to my name, and I blew it all in one night on one poker game. I went out to the streets and paid my respects to all the people who could afford their mortgages and rent checks. I found a dry spot to camp under the overpass. Cop tried to detain me, but I told him to kiss my ass. I think I’ll start a business where the sun doesn’t shine, making money in morning while the day is still mine.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.17.2017 @ 10:22 pm
Father had tiled the kitchen floor, and Mother had built the toolshed. Brother had repaired the refrigerator so that Sister and he could finally drink beers that were cold. Uncle was arguing with Aunt over whether or not the place should have a gas or electrical stove, and the Token Gay Cousin was too busy texting her secret girlfriend to remember to tear out the rotten drywall in the downstairs bathroom.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.16.2017 @ 9:03 pm
I went to the dentist to get a tooth pulled, and I ended up falling in love. She had strong hands and a smile that radiated even through the face mask she had pulled across her jaw. When she was done with the X-rays, she let me see her teeth as she exposed them in a grin – so white and pearly and beautiful. I was about ready to kiss her, only I knew she was married and wouldn’t consent, not to mention that I was still horrifically numb from all of the novocaine.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.15.2017 @ 9:38 pm
Somehow, Ben didn’t exactly feel safe, not even when he heard the bark of the guard dog right by his gate, the ridge on its back clearly raised as it stood watch. He knew this because he observed its movements from his bedroom window, using a pair of cheap black binoculars that he had a habit of wearing around his neck. His mansion was protected – but only for now.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.14.2017 @ 8:13 pm
The winter of our discontent was never quite made glorious summer. We made our camps and lit small fires to ward away the evil spirits. At night, we all sang songs that were meant to raise the morale of our soldiers, but in the morning, the armor remained rusty, and the swords blunt, and our confidence shredded like ice in a quick yet violent storm.
I stayed behind when the first battle started. And I stayed behind when the second ended badly as well.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.13.2017 @ 9:17 pm
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Wake me up in a soundproof room, where all the screams of the damned are entombed. No one hears the echoes of funeral dirges, or of curses and slights, or of sexual urges. There are bones in the wall and hearts beating in the corners. I can feel the heat radiating off the houseowner. He collects us together – it’s inevitable. He’ll break all of your spirit and drink from your skull.
» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 09.12.2017 @ 4:32 pm