it is all about the delivery. Soften the message, don’t be abrupt or brusque, or business like. Ensure that you are gentle and feminine at all times. Live the lie. Perpetuate the myth. Don’t upset people.
When you came to the door my surprise was evident. Who would have known I was expecting you? Who would have cared? I cared. I had been waiting a long time for this delivery. A delivery of souls.
The delivery of your words hits me like a flood. Devastating even the loveliest of days, moments-all in one simple sentence your fury boils over and hits me in the chest. Your words deliver pain and anguish, stabbing my heart in a staccato beat, slicing open my eyes as tears flow free after moments of shock. And in those moments of shock, your words are delivered continuously. Your patience was worn thin from my inability to contribute, my ideas were stupid, my logic was illogical, i didn’t think 16 steps ahead the way I should have..reason after reason on how my actions caused your words to be delivered in the most un-lovingly of ways. You said you thought you loved me…but love is patient, its kind…and the delivery of your words and actions…are neither.
The delivery had arrived. The dreaded package that Amanda had been waiting for for months, thinking of what she would do upon it’s arrival, and then pushing the thought impatiently away, returning to the task at hand. She had never given it proper thought, and so now it had arrived and she had now idea what to do. She stared at it on the porch, a simple cardboard box, and wondered how she would tell her roommate about what was about to happen.
Oh I know it’s not the sort of delivery that I’m meant to be writing about right now, but let me tell you, there are days where I fantasize about some sort of delivery from all of this. An instant win, instant gratification. Instant decision that I’ve worked hard enough and that life should be easy from this point on.
Which is what we all fantasize about, to varying degrees, I guess. The idea that our hard days might be over and it’s all easy from here.
Send it now
Don’t delay
Ring the bell
Ding dong
Turn the handle
What is it?
A package for me?
The joy of discovery slicing down the tape
To peel open
And look inside
Special
I was on my way to deliver a box of chocolates for a valentine and I was shocked to find that my car keys had gone missing! What should I do I thought But it was too late! The rain came down and I was drenched! To the bone.
I look around shocked to see that I’m in the woods. “I have to deliver this medicine or Anna could die!” I say to myself.
I look around to see where I am, and I find that I’m just outside her house.
“If I could only get to the door.”
But I can’t my foots trapped under a log that had been blown down in the storm.
Then i hear her scream.
“Anna! I have it!.”
More screaming.
“Monroe catch!” I yell as I throw the bottle of medicine to her.
I let out the breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding.
the man was at the hospital waiting for his new born son, the anticipation was killer. He heard someone call his name and he quickly spun arround to notice a man wearing a hat and black new bounds. It was the pizza man. Did you ask for delivery?
She was expecting a delivery soon. It would change her whole life – and she didn’t mind that such a statement was somewhat of a cliche. She didn’t even mean it hyperbolically; the baby would quite literally change everything.
He was almost here. She was almost about to… (almostalmostalmost) what? Become a mother? Even if she was going to give up this fetus she had been hosting for nine months now? How many months, weeks, hours had passed since she’d known she couldn’t – wouldn’t – keep him?
No.
She may be his mother, but she won’t be his parent, a loving mother there to nurture and support. She was going to hand him over to his parents, a couple she didn’t even know. That’s all she knew – they were a married couple. She didn’t know their names, where they lived, their jobs (if they had any), their favorite TV show or their favorite ice cream. She didn’t know if they already had children or if they themselves had been adopted. Did they have parents? Good parents? What would they name her son? She just didn’t know.
Because she would see her son once, as they were moving him to the baby wing- all soft blankets, pastels in blues and pinks, with the sharp smell and harsh lights only hospitals have – while they stitched her back up.
It was cold that morning. More black than grey. The trains were steaming along, slow at first.
I wondered, in a half-struck, and sidelong way, a dark thought. All the young men of the city were gone. But the men in their brown uniforms, still marching, abreast, down the cobble road.
The orderliness, the ordinariness of empire. With all its regalia
and ritual. Was every murderer a king at heart? Every king a murderer in turn?
The coffee was tepid. The faucet dripping. Modern convenience, rusting away, with all its dim iron. Its funny how our homes are at first shelters. And then schools. Prisons have four walls too. And finally, tombs.
Funny how a city, I called home, could be all those things too. Down in the street, even now, the men shouting, still in orderly fashion. No more parts than people. Orchestrated, with their bayonetts, and brown shirts. Monstrosity is never an abstract. It exists in the ordinary.
I licked my chapped lips, and adjusted my cap. The streets would be haunted, even while busy, with the sullen unfed eyes of mothers sweeping, and children playing, half-hearted, but not too loud.
A quiet society.
A manacled society.
I am Isaac Levin, reporting from the invisible front, at paris, france. October 3rd, 1942.
And I have a delivery to make. Tick tock.
Deliver up the ghosts of the past
or the heroes that once were
and all that I have conquered, wont last, no.
I give as a gift to her. But love?
Surely love will outlast this world.
– Memory
Deliver up the ghosts of the past
or the heroes that once where
and all that I have conquered, wont last
I give as a gift to her.
Surely love will outlast this world.
– Memory
I looked at the window, seeing a car that I didn’t recognize pull up to the house. Dread took over as I saw two men in dress blues simultaneously exit the vehicle and walk up the driveway.
“Hell of a day to be home sick.” I told myself.
I answered the door in my pajamas with, matching their hesitant expression with my own.
The delivery was long—longer than she’d like to remember, now that everything was said and done. But it did create a sense of accomplishment as she held her daughter, looking at her wrinkled pink face. Like all that hard work had finally amounted to something.
sitting here in a steam bath
how flies the time when the past has passed
teeth clenched, open all night
bad dreams flight of fancy fights
delivery deliver you back to me
the alabaster girl
pale skin lips curled
your mind has no name
the face the same
head aches, wine, cigarettes
you were never mine
archaic fantasy never left
The delivery here in Rio de Janeiro is very bad. They don’t send our delivery in our houses because they say here is a dangerous place, but this is not true. All places in Rio are very dangerous
I walk into the store and the boy stares at me. His hands seem to tremble slightly as he clasps them infront of him. His stone-cold blue eyes don’t break contact with mine as he holds up a bag and asks me, “Delivery for you?” I smile, ear to ear.
“Special Deliver for Whitie Duval!” This is the line from one of my favorite movies as a kid. Well, I was in junior high I believe, they’re still kids right? Anyway, I remember laughing so hard during the movie I farted, loudly too. If it hadn’t been for everyone else’s laughter the entire theater probably would have heard it.
“Just one more delivery and i’m done for the day, finally!”- he thought as he drove his scooter through the highway not realizing the car that was about to crash him onto the paviment
We took the box and went upstairs. The delivery was one that we had been waiting on for weeks. We carefully unwrapped the box and opened it. The light that shone from the box almost blinded us. Too afraid to touch, we went for a pair of oven mitts. Not the most reverent but hopefully, they were protective enough.
Special delivery! The dog said as he walked up to the neighbours house and pooped all over the lawn. The neighbour looked out the window and didn’t really know what to think. Sure, a dog was pooping all over his lawn but he was more gobsmacked that a dog could talk. Not only that, but the first thing a talking dog said to him was rude!
The neighbour decided he had had enough of the day and wet back to bed.
I already did this one?? I don’t understand how it works? You only get one word per day? or what? I don’t know. It said I had a duplicate entry but I’ve never used this thing before. I don’t really know what to do with this??
He stepped out, thinking he heard a knock at the door. Turns out it was the neighbors house.
Once his neighbor stepped out, he realized that he was living next to his hero. He had no idea that he might have a chance to meet the person who made him who he is today.
“Delivery!” someone calls from outside. I rush out the door and down the steps to the palace foyer, seeing a young page girl standing there holding a package. My dress almost gets caught under my slipper in my haste to reach her.
it is all about the delivery. Soften the message, don’t be abrupt or brusque, or business like. Ensure that you are gentle and feminine at all times. Live the lie. Perpetuate the myth. Don’t upset people.
When you came to the door my surprise was evident. Who would have known I was expecting you? Who would have cared? I cared. I had been waiting a long time for this delivery. A delivery of souls.
The delivery of your words hits me like a flood. Devastating even the loveliest of days, moments-all in one simple sentence your fury boils over and hits me in the chest. Your words deliver pain and anguish, stabbing my heart in a staccato beat, slicing open my eyes as tears flow free after moments of shock. And in those moments of shock, your words are delivered continuously. Your patience was worn thin from my inability to contribute, my ideas were stupid, my logic was illogical, i didn’t think 16 steps ahead the way I should have..reason after reason on how my actions caused your words to be delivered in the most un-lovingly of ways. You said you thought you loved me…but love is patient, its kind…and the delivery of your words and actions…are neither.
Breathe in. Breathe out. The blow strikes him sharply between the ribs, the blade slips in and out with awful precision, and he drops.
His ring arrives in a box at their doorstep the next day. She holds it tightly, chest hollow, eyes dry. Her husband weeps until his energy is spent.
The box is placed in the back of a cupboard. They do not speak of it again.
But the silence that falls on their house says it all.
The delivery had arrived. The dreaded package that Amanda had been waiting for for months, thinking of what she would do upon it’s arrival, and then pushing the thought impatiently away, returning to the task at hand. She had never given it proper thought, and so now it had arrived and she had now idea what to do. She stared at it on the porch, a simple cardboard box, and wondered how she would tell her roommate about what was about to happen.
Oh I know it’s not the sort of delivery that I’m meant to be writing about right now, but let me tell you, there are days where I fantasize about some sort of delivery from all of this. An instant win, instant gratification. Instant decision that I’ve worked hard enough and that life should be easy from this point on.
Which is what we all fantasize about, to varying degrees, I guess. The idea that our hard days might be over and it’s all easy from here.
The mail man was walking up to the door, as he laced down the package at the according address. He knocks twice. “Delivery!”
Send it now
Don’t delay
Ring the bell
Ding dong
Turn the handle
What is it?
A package for me?
The joy of discovery slicing down the tape
To peel open
And look inside
Special
I was on my way to deliver a box of chocolates for a valentine and I was shocked to find that my car keys had gone missing! What should I do I thought But it was too late! The rain came down and I was drenched! To the bone.
I look around shocked to see that I’m in the woods. “I have to deliver this medicine or Anna could die!” I say to myself.
I look around to see where I am, and I find that I’m just outside her house.
“If I could only get to the door.”
But I can’t my foots trapped under a log that had been blown down in the storm.
Then i hear her scream.
“Anna! I have it!.”
More screaming.
“Monroe catch!” I yell as I throw the bottle of medicine to her.
I let out the breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding.
“I saved her.”
I deliver goods. What do you mean?
*Rap rap rap!*
Now, who could that be at this hour?
He answered the door and – before he could stop himself – screamed “What?!” in the face of the frightened pizza delivery boy.
Whoops.
the man was at the hospital waiting for his new born son, the anticipation was killer. He heard someone call his name and he quickly spun arround to notice a man wearing a hat and black new bounds. It was the pizza man. Did you ask for delivery?
She was expecting a delivery soon. It would change her whole life – and she didn’t mind that such a statement was somewhat of a cliche. She didn’t even mean it hyperbolically; the baby would quite literally change everything.
He was almost here. She was almost about to… (almostalmostalmost) what? Become a mother? Even if she was going to give up this fetus she had been hosting for nine months now? How many months, weeks, hours had passed since she’d known she couldn’t – wouldn’t – keep him?
No.
She may be his mother, but she won’t be his parent, a loving mother there to nurture and support. She was going to hand him over to his parents, a couple she didn’t even know. That’s all she knew – they were a married couple. She didn’t know their names, where they lived, their jobs (if they had any), their favorite TV show or their favorite ice cream. She didn’t know if they already had children or if they themselves had been adopted. Did they have parents? Good parents? What would they name her son? She just didn’t know.
Because she would see her son once, as they were moving him to the baby wing- all soft blankets, pastels in blues and pinks, with the sharp smell and harsh lights only hospitals have – while they stitched her back up.
It was cold that morning. More black than grey. The trains were steaming along, slow at first.
I wondered, in a half-struck, and sidelong way, a dark thought. All the young men of the city were gone. But the men in their brown uniforms, still marching, abreast, down the cobble road.
The orderliness, the ordinariness of empire. With all its regalia
and ritual. Was every murderer a king at heart? Every king a murderer in turn?
The coffee was tepid. The faucet dripping. Modern convenience, rusting away, with all its dim iron. Its funny how our homes are at first shelters. And then schools. Prisons have four walls too. And finally, tombs.
Funny how a city, I called home, could be all those things too. Down in the street, even now, the men shouting, still in orderly fashion. No more parts than people. Orchestrated, with their bayonetts, and brown shirts. Monstrosity is never an abstract. It exists in the ordinary.
I licked my chapped lips, and adjusted my cap. The streets would be haunted, even while busy, with the sullen unfed eyes of mothers sweeping, and children playing, half-hearted, but not too loud.
A quiet society.
A manacled society.
I am Isaac Levin, reporting from the invisible front, at paris, france. October 3rd, 1942.
And I have a delivery to make. Tick tock.
Deliver up the ghosts of the past
or the heroes that once were
and all that I have conquered, wont last, no.
I give as a gift to her. But love?
Surely love will outlast this world.
– Memory
Deliver up the ghosts of the past
or the heroes that once where
and all that I have conquered, wont last
I give as a gift to her.
Surely love will outlast this world.
– Memory
I looked at the window, seeing a car that I didn’t recognize pull up to the house. Dread took over as I saw two men in dress blues simultaneously exit the vehicle and walk up the driveway.
“Hell of a day to be home sick.” I told myself.
I answered the door in my pajamas with, matching their hesitant expression with my own.
The delivery was long—longer than she’d like to remember, now that everything was said and done. But it did create a sense of accomplishment as she held her daughter, looking at her wrinkled pink face. Like all that hard work had finally amounted to something.
Something wonderful.
sitting here in a steam bath
how flies the time when the past has passed
teeth clenched, open all night
bad dreams flight of fancy fights
delivery deliver you back to me
the alabaster girl
pale skin lips curled
your mind has no name
the face the same
head aches, wine, cigarettes
you were never mine
archaic fantasy never left
The delivery here in Rio de Janeiro is very bad. They don’t send our delivery in our houses because they say here is a dangerous place, but this is not true. All places in Rio are very dangerous
I walk into the store and the boy stares at me. His hands seem to tremble slightly as he clasps them infront of him. His stone-cold blue eyes don’t break contact with mine as he holds up a bag and asks me, “Delivery for you?” I smile, ear to ear.
“Special Deliver for Whitie Duval!” This is the line from one of my favorite movies as a kid. Well, I was in junior high I believe, they’re still kids right? Anyway, I remember laughing so hard during the movie I farted, loudly too. If it hadn’t been for everyone else’s laughter the entire theater probably would have heard it.
“Just one more delivery and i’m done for the day, finally!”- he thought as he drove his scooter through the highway not realizing the car that was about to crash him onto the paviment
We took the box and went upstairs. The delivery was one that we had been waiting on for weeks. We carefully unwrapped the box and opened it. The light that shone from the box almost blinded us. Too afraid to touch, we went for a pair of oven mitts. Not the most reverent but hopefully, they were protective enough.
Special delivery! The dog said as he walked up to the neighbours house and pooped all over the lawn. The neighbour looked out the window and didn’t really know what to think. Sure, a dog was pooping all over his lawn but he was more gobsmacked that a dog could talk. Not only that, but the first thing a talking dog said to him was rude!
The neighbour decided he had had enough of the day and wet back to bed.
Delivery. I made a delivery once, and when my grandma got it, it was broken. Delivery stinks!
I already did this one?? I don’t understand how it works? You only get one word per day? or what? I don’t know. It said I had a duplicate entry but I’ve never used this thing before. I don’t really know what to do with this??
He stepped out, thinking he heard a knock at the door. Turns out it was the neighbors house.
Once his neighbor stepped out, he realized that he was living next to his hero. He had no idea that he might have a chance to meet the person who made him who he is today.
“Delivery!” someone calls from outside. I rush out the door and down the steps to the palace foyer, seeing a young page girl standing there holding a package. My dress almost gets caught under my slipper in my haste to reach her.