FSBO: the Last vestige of my toxic masculinity

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I don’t want to sell my truck. Especially not to you. You are probably a dweeb. Maybe one of those hipsters which wants the truck ironically.

But my wife wants it out of here.

I’m a retired General Contractor, and my truck is ready to help someone do their job with ease.

So, I’m selling my Ford F-3500. Even to you, you dirty tree-hugger.

Stop hauling your lumber around in your beat-up Prius. This F-3500 has a rack that spans the truck’s length to carry all your lumber, pipes, and vinyl records. …

FSBO: A reminder of my inadequacies as a pet owner

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I had a dream once that I was going to train my dog. What a fool I was.

My Chihuahua runs my life. She never lets me leave her side. When I got her, people would talk about how they leave their dogs at home the entire day. They told me all I needed to do was crate train her and I would be done. Life would return to normal.

But I was never able to follow-through and, as a result, I have a dog that goes with me wherever I go. …

Introspection through break-up variables

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I don’t want coffee
to stay awake
when I’m bored
to death.

I want to lounge
in the nutty notes
of a bitter cup
not roasted long.

I want to stop losing
to my perfect self.
That sketch put in my head
by those who said they cared.

I don’t want to solve
for x or y
another day
in my life.

It reminds me of when
I used to believe
you could learn to love anything
if you really had a need.

Gray days
and an attempt
to inculcate
that is better to imitate
than to stimulate.

It doesn’t…

Of prodigies… of which I’m not one.

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Before we get into the story, I want to be clear; I did NOT paint the mural above.

In sixth grade, I sat close to Wadi and Jhair. The three of us had a lot in common. We thought we were funny, our parents had divorced, adults weren’t really paying attention to us, and we all liked to draw. We called ourselves “the three troublemakers” and we made drawings about it.

But I lied to my friends. I didn’t have any drawing skills. I would trace drawings and then tell them I drew…

Dear Genie

A rose supports her twin

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Asha had been considering a facelift for quite some time now. The outer edges of her face looked fresh but she felt stuck and thought the middle of her being looked haggard. Maybe plastic surgery would make her feel younger — à la Hollywood. Maybe that’s how she would finally feel happy.

Francine was vehemently against it. She would tell her twin sister, “Once you start, you will never stop finding issues to fix under the scalpel. Plus, it’s expensive and they might leave some of your petals in the wrong places.”

Francine was six minutes older than Asha and…

Novel-Draft Ch 2: The pursuit of checkbooks on steroids

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Steve followed Victoria into the room. The room was as sterile as any other conference room in business hotels —pale and drab. It was intentionally planned this way so businesspeople could be more creative.

As Steve walked in, he saw a man standing in the middle of the stage. The blue Dockers wrapped tightly around his legs and his white button-up short-sleeve shirt was two sizes too loose on him. Steve was relieved to know that the main event had no started and he hadn’t miss Mr. Levine. …

A plea from your friendly and skeptical family member

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When I’m on the clock, I don’t have beliefs of my own. As a salesman, I only answer one question, “Do I believe in this product?” If I do, then while I’m on the clock, I believe whatever my clients believe.

When they ask me, “What do you think of garden gnomes?”
I respond, “Well, if they are confined to the garden, they shouldn’t be deported.”

When they ask me, “What do you think of the tooth fairy?”
I respond, “she better have her green card in order, or she should be on Megan’s list.”

When they ask me, “What’s…

Carlos Garbiras

A hopeless optimist sorting the deeply ingrained neurosis of a hypervigilant and topsy-turvy upbringing in Colombia. IG: @garbiras

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