Dirt

Dirt and dried mud clung to every surface of the house, a layer of grime so thick it suggested years had passed since any cleaning had been undertaken. Yet the inhabitants, their own clothes equally soiled, acted as if everything about the situation were normal. Their sunny dispositions and politeness in the face of even the rudest insinuations forced the consideration that exterior appearances were, at least in this situation, misleading.

When the discovery of a mass grave was discovered underneath their domicile, conclusions were again revised. Contamination of the home is indeed a sign of contamination of the soul.

Keeping Up Appearances

Several seats were open at the bar and I sat next to an elderly lady. "Don’t forget Michelle’s dinner," I thought.

“How do you do?” the lady asked.

“Pretty well. Just getting home from work. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. Where do you work?”

“I work as a counselor,” I said. I was a peer counselor but I didn’t want to disclose my diagnosis.

“What’s your focus?”

“Psychotic disorders.”

“I feel so bad for those poor people,” she said as she looked at her glass.

“Oh, I dunno, you’d be surprised. Some of them do better than you think.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

Ideonomisis I.

“There are no Absolutes in intelligence — rather, there is collaborative education to share the flow of stock, (the durability, and woodiness of our external, noumena-phenomena: that is, the definiendum we “usually” perceive in itself, vs., the definiendum — or object in question for definition — perceivable by an outward projection of appearances) omni-interactions like a launchpad within our Activision concavity). Perhaps, the boundless spectra of profoundly vague, all possible worlds Finnegan’s Wake sempiternities “n-gon-like;” lopsided, (and sew) “imprecise” Syracusian-moona-aquifer impassible linearity akin to all of us — will thus, liberate ex-communicators in the dogmatic chapel of all intelligence testing.”

From Guest Contributor Tiana Lavrov