<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379</id><updated>2011-07-08T08:18:50.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i carry your heart</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-9194097724815485830</id><published>2010-01-31T07:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T07:17:16.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #7</title><content type='html'>outside, in the alley between her building and the laundromat, a boy lay with his arms around a dog the color of dry sand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nobody knew of the boy in the alley. not the artist in the dark. not the 3 friends at the drycleaners. the dog in his arms moved closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he squeezed the dog and sang "we represent the lollipop kids..." and the dog whimpered as a cold breeze took his song and their heat away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a man named henry sloan paused at the mouth of the alley. if that boy and dog are dead, he thought, i'll go lie down and die right with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the dog could have slipped the boy's arms, but stayed. it growled at henry over the boy's snotty cheek. "i just want to help," henry said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;henry carried the boy to his apartment. the dog limped after them. people stared, snickered from cars, but no one made eye contact with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with 2 bottles empty, she lacked the strength to reach for the 3rd. her eyes flitted, stopped, closed. she heard a dark and distant howl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-9194097724815485830?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/9194097724815485830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2010/01/week-7.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/9194097724815485830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/9194097724815485830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2010/01/week-7.html' title='Week #7'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-1158015218000250698</id><published>2010-01-23T08:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T08:25:04.775-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #6</title><content type='html'>theo said "emily, if you tell me spig's a ghost, i will fucking SCREECH." "i'm not" spig said "but right now i wish i was. screech anyway."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;theo got up and pointed at them, unable to speak. em said, "theo." he turned to run away. "i think we're freaking him out," spig said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spig helped emily to her feet. they ran after theo, who was jogging toward the park. "what have we done?" emily asked. spig said, "we?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they found theo hiding in the entry to a dry-cleaner's. backed into the corner. he stared at them, motionless, as if he were invisible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"sorry," em said. "it's all right" theo told her. "i just need to eat." spig said, "we ate a 1/2 hour ago!" theo's stare made him back away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the artist sat in her unlit kitchen. before her, 3 bottles of pills: 2 made-up like men, 1 like a woman. hearts drawn in black magic marker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one bottle emptied, she leaned across the table and wrote: "i fall for those who make me feel the way i wish they'd feel about me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-1158015218000250698?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/1158015218000250698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2010/01/week-6.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/1158015218000250698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/1158015218000250698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2010/01/week-6.html' title='Week #6'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-2262844671295698139</id><published>2009-12-18T09:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T09:39:06.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #5</title><content type='html'>across the street, in a 3rd floor apartment, a woman sketched them on a paper plate. opened the window. let it sail. backed into the dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the plate fell to the street. theo went and picked it up. turned around. smiled. a car horn sounded. tires screeched. em covered her eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;theo pelvic-thrusted to safety. the car brushed his jacket and sped on. he stood there like a less-than sign, wheeling his arms for balance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;em uncovered her eyes. "please, get out of the road," she said. theo sat again, handing her the plate. she smiled and looked up at the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the sketch, in pencil, captured their embrace on the sidewalk, em crying, spig with his fingers laced through those of emily's good hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they looked up at the windows across the street, trying to locate the artist, who basked in the dark and thought: i have three good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;em sighed, teetering. "this is quite possibly the best and worst afternoon of my life" she told spig. "better even than when you died."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-2262844671295698139?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/2262844671295698139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/12/week-5.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/2262844671295698139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/2262844671295698139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/12/week-5.html' title='Week #5'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-135074752623872075</id><published>2009-12-07T07:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T07:49:06.306-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #4</title><content type='html'>walking to lunch, spig said, "i don't, you know." "i never said you did," theo said. "don't what?" spig laughed and said, "dye my hair."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they sat in a corner booth. sunlight pearled on the twist of hair above spig's ear. theo pictured it falling, splashing on the table-top...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"halves on a cheeseburger grinder?" theo asked. "too much work," said spig. "why don't we just get a pie and take some back to emily?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spig had 6 pieces; theo, 2. "i forgot to eat breakfast," spig said. "and breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday. i'm terrible about that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i'll be right back" spig said. he went down the hall toward the restroom. 5 minutes passed. 10. theo sucked his lips in as he paid the bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spig met him on the corner. "i can't believe you did that" theo said." "em has my wallet. really. i forgot to grab it. really. seriously." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;em sat on the curb. eyes red, make-up smeared. bandage on her hand. she waved. winced. started to cry. they sat alongside and hugged her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-135074752623872075?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/135074752623872075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/12/week-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/135074752623872075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/135074752623872075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/12/week-4.html' title='Week #4'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-6569697851689245599</id><published>2009-11-29T11:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T11:18:44.595-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #3</title><content type='html'>"thanks" said the date. "for what?" spig asked. "ruining my day. showing up uninvited." "you were late." "yeah. well. you dye your hair."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;em heard a slap and turned around. her date's left cheek was glowing. spig, hands up defensively, giggled and said "i'm not laughing." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"it's okay" said the date. "no, it's not" em said. "really, it is" spig told her. "we cool?" offering a hand. shake. hold. shiver... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"what just happened?" emily asked. the cabbie said "we're here." she spun back, reached for the dash with broken fingers and said AAHHHHH!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"the young lady's in shock," said the nurse. "can i get a name and # from one of you?" spig looked at the date, who shrugged and said "theo"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"not hers" the nurse said. "yours." "that is my name." "theodore?" spig asked. "theotis." "oh. i like that." the nurse said "do you mind?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they sat on hard plastic chairs, watching a talkshow. spig said "theo?" "yeah?" "feel like getting lunch?" "why not" theo said. "you owe me"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-6569697851689245599?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/6569697851689245599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/11/week-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/6569697851689245599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/6569697851689245599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/11/week-3.html' title='Week #3'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-3451243730324536434</id><published>2009-11-22T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T10:26:47.832-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #2</title><content type='html'>he spaced out at the corner. she watched him space and they missed the light. "albert spignoli," she said. "alberta spignola," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i could still use a coffee," emily said. "me, too," spig said. "a pot. of." he pointed at her stood-up date, who rode by in a taxi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the taxi screeched to a halt. "i'm too tired to run" spig said. "you're also too tired to fight" em said, tugging his sleeve. "ow" he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spig tumbled off the curb. em shrieked, falling on him. he could feel at least 2 of her fingers, still clutched in his, bent the wrong way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"your turn to say ow," spig told her. "that's not funny," she said, laughing through her tears and loving him for it. "please don't let go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;emily's date loomed over them. "i, uh...what's your name, again?" spig asked. the man looked at em, raised his eyebrows. she said, "help?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spig and the stiffed-date rode in back. he could hear em grit her teeth up front. the cabbie said "who's the good guy?" emily said "you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-3451243730324536434?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/3451243730324536434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/11/week-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/3451243730324536434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/3451243730324536434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/11/week-2.html' title='Week #2'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8169522567165051379.post-5249634577233460706</id><published>2009-11-14T08:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T08:19:21.317-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Week #1</title><content type='html'>spig waited with emily for her date to arrive. when he did, spig said "that's not him, is it?" knowing that it was. "it isn't. is it, em?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i don't know," spig said. "he's got a minor mis-balance or something." em scrunched up her nose and said, "no, he doesn't. ha! shut up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"let's go" spig said. "we can't just leave" em said. "what about the coffee?" her date tapped the glass and smiled. "is there a back door?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he dragged off her chair and through the kitchen. the cook, nibbling on a block of cheese, said, "sorry." "it's not your fault," spig said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the screen door shut behind them. "what now?" em asked. a half-eaten block of cheese hit the rusty wire mesh and they both screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they ran till spig was out of breath--about 40 steps. he smiled at her, said "you love me." em squeezed his hand, thinking, if you only knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spig's hair was black and mostly straight, except for a lone shiny curl, over his right ear, that she wanted to suck as if it were her own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8169522567165051379-5249634577233460706?l=icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/feeds/5249634577233460706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/11/week-1.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/5249634577233460706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8169522567165051379/posts/default/5249634577233460706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icarryyourheart2009.blogspot.com/2009/11/week-1.html' title='Week #1'/><author><name>walter conley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13024514571195778214</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A8zkNqFcdAU/Smm_QIUkIGI/AAAAAAAAABU/TctSc-cOLG0/S220/pro.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
