there’s something about golden retrievers that seems vaguely
bad (racist?) and i don;t want europe
or ropes or ham or warfare, twentieth, nineteenth c style
guns ablazing or muskets fired in
(napoleon’s hair)
i don’t want Europe i don’t want hope anymore i don’t want
unfulfillment no no i just want as always
you
her
my (not mine) your you
u u u , the golden girl ,,
.
What is romance? Wouldn’t the Europeans know — or is it just France? With some idyllic notion of how this all goes. I’m flummoxed and drummin up a big fuss because cuss if I can’t grab hold of this let alone attract a heart or even get the notice that I’ve been kicked out or had I leapt out into some shameful solo career. That’s queer, I can’t even get a holla let alone collect the dollas to support the dream I’ve careened away from. Driving cross-country in my little nissan with a dog in the back seat and now everything I own, son – of – a – bitch, so little stuff I couldn’t fill a house with. I looked back, left the track and found myself lapped by everyone I walked next to, step to the own beat to that drum I talked about, a little stout but walkin proud or did I mean to type pout. Is it love or is it passion that we’re all hoping to cash in and that’s what I’m believin that yeah, maybe then I’m european.
Damn them Europeans got fine ass. I mean art. No I don’t I mean ass. I don’t actually know any Europeans so I’m not really qualified to say that… but hey actually I do, cause Dave Gahan is British and DAMN THAT ASS!
Charlotte Vanilla
vague italian pasta dishes topped with nonna’s super market brand sauce. sometimes ketchup. paella a la vodka – her mother was a spaniard, her father an italian. ginny grease sparking in the sun light.
bask in the european elitism. soak in its snobbery. feel the supreme feeling of european blood rushing through your veins. i am european. i am all that is greatness. i am the pinnacle of humanity. i am. i run. i own.
I love everything european. European food, wine, chocolate, dessert, etc. But above all, I like to have an european career as their opera pianist in their house. Can you imagine? After work, I can go to their restaurant to hang out and eat with friends?
kwok
european sluts in black g-strings suck me dry as the desert. european society. eurocentric ideas. old world thinking running the new world. european women in no clothing whatsoever
I remember him fondly. In every dream, he comes to me. I picture is blue eyes the moment they met mine and all I think about is the kiss that never happened. The story that never got told. I leave my imagination to do my living for me. I dream of him and I running the streets of Paris, madly inlove, kissing, drinking wine, but all I have are the memories of his blue eyes.
“This is what is known as the European Style!” he declared, waving towards it with a flourish. Georgina had never seen one like it before, but could tell straight off that it was a fake.
tonykeyesjapan
I’d take a trip, explore the historical and beautiful places of my fatherland. A European tour sounds life-changing. But only if you’ll go with me.
Elegance. The lobby oozed it like the richly hued paint of a valuable artwork in some ancient museum…or the home of an arbiter of taste. Already it was hard to breathe, the gilt mirrors carpet the color of dried merlot seemed ready to swallow her.
Jessica Fox
The woman stood above the skyline overlooking the railing of the building’s rooftop. She had straight, dark hair, cascading halfway down her back in an onyx hue, and kept into place with a straw hat. Her dress was white, swerving out by the knew from the wind.
The war had raged in most of the european cities now, some had seen days of constant gunshots and bombings. Child had started to cry when a high flying birds shadow crossed the city, mistaken it for a bomber plane.
Taylor Baker
A country a long way from the USA. Refers to people who live in Europe. Their culture is more free and less conservative than Americans.
Michelle
I study the dark brown mug in front of me …. the color, the aroma. Swirling the cup, I take a small sip. Funny, could’ve sworn I’d ordered the fancy, European stuff. This tastes just like the instant I keep at home for mornings where I’m too rushed to make a proper cuppa. Some companies … just goes to show.
the streets of france were busy with tourists and residents, but mostly tourists. tegan pulled sara by the hand. “come on, we need to get in line!.” she said. sara shru
hahahh@hahah.com
Quiet night. Fall is here with Winter close behind. There isn’t anything left to talk about tonight so we’ll start with that: not talking. A typist is like a tone deaf pianist. The concerto monotonous, broken, stuttering it’s only beautiful to the eyes. I’m a long way from home and for a good reason. No reason to type about that now though I guess. Do you like the piano? I do. Maybe some people only type because they weren’t any good at the piano. I suppose if someone played the keyboard like the piano it would look awful. I’ve tried typing words with the piano but that’s fairly limited like this piece. Goodnight.
His car was slick and shiny and very black
prowling the city streets in a mystery
searching for the tunnels and the alleys
for his ways are a mystery
Stranger one day, a friend the next
sitting beside him, rear-view mirror check
looking out for the signs and sirens melee
for his ways are a mystery.
fz
He was tall. Tall, and skinny. Freckled, and redheaded. You know, the stereotypical Irish guy. He wore this oversized leather jacket. I never would’ve spoken to him ordinarily, but I was lost.
Nicky
He had a European style about him. A little more laid back, a little quicker to trust. A cute accent and a smirk that could make your stomach flutter. That’s what I saw. I didn’t see the darker side, the hidden past, the just-sharpened blade.
The world of the europeans ands all we is the victors writing the textbooks, the textbooks, that are so subject to students sorrows and the times midnight horrors from the slave trade to the
Victor
The gorgeous woman had a distinctly european look to her; that refined, sophisticated beauty that cannot be found anywhere else in the world.
She was European, this girl. That was different. He had never fucked a European before, only White girls and Asians.
He didn’t know she would be exactly the same.
But was she?
He thought back on their time together, the electricity sparking between them every time their bodies drew close, the stretching, pulling as he achingly leaned away from her.
Was it something that happened just because of her ethnicity?
Or was she the one?
Bronte
Nick had this hilarious girlfriend named Jane. She was one of the biggest feminist Corrine and Marcy Tills had ever met. They fit in easily in their company and for awhile they stopping needing people. They were at peace for awhile and in each other’s company and long night talks, they found what they had needed.
My first tour in Europe was in England. We were the first wave of Americans, and we built bases for the Army Air Corps, paved landing strips in what used to be a farmers field.
Me. It is where my true self lies. I will be european in Europe. I will skip along cobblestone streets in Italy and eat the finest breads and drink the finest wines in France. I will be european in Europe.
Kourtney
“I thought you said this was European coffee?”
Doug paused with his mug partway to his lips, and a look of confusion flattened the features of his face.
“It is,” he said slowly. “It’s from Europe, that makes it European.”
I tried a cup of European chocolate yogurt while I was waiting for my bus, at the cost of three dollars and ninety-five cents from the small shop located just a few feet away from the transit center. The owner was very nice – and incredibly Greek – speaking in full, floral sentences as the sharp ends of his consonants were polished enough to slice the air cleanly, not hack it. And he was the one who suggested the yogurt.
Belinda Roddie
oh no what can I say? Europain!
jack blake
i have never met an euorpean. i don’t know what i would do if i did either. would i ask him or her a lot of questions? or would i dwell on the fact i know nothing about them. what would he or she think of me? would they have questions for me as an American? I’m sure they could c
kerry
I think of Geography when I think of Europe. We are working on a project right now, where we have just gotten back from a pretend trip to Europe.
Kaylynn
european is so snoobish. I think that european stuff like to be a little naughty too, you see. I mean, european people enjoy being told naughty stuff about them. They get an unshamefull thrill. I bet Hitler did too
Hanna-Kristel
I had never heard the phrase ‘cosmopolitan’ until I entered college. It seemed as though everyone around me- with the exception of myself, of course- had traveled abroad. Had met someone European. And then there’s me. I went to Alaska once.
He was European. I was alone and entranced in his spell of times when illusion overpowered intellect. His musk was of cultured man and I fell wildly into him like a child into a pile of leaves. Willing.
Chiara
A place that I would like to go.ecc
Rebecca
Foreign
Romance
Passport
Vacation
Old
Christi peterman
In my soup.
Gary Dennett
Waiting for my sandwich
At the table by the window
Rain dribbles down the glass
Past my face
I feel very European
Sitting at a cafe
Waiting for something sweet
And coffee
“It’s just…I don’t know. There’s something different about you,”
I cocked my head to the side. “How so?”
“You just…you seem so…European now,”
I chuckled. “You know I can turn off the accent,”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not the accent. Well, not just that. I mean, you were always good at those, even before you left,”
there’s something about golden retrievers that seems vaguely
bad (racist?) and i don;t want europe
or ropes or ham or warfare, twentieth, nineteenth c style
guns ablazing or muskets fired in
(napoleon’s hair)
i don’t want Europe i don’t want hope anymore i don’t want
unfulfillment no no i just want as always
you
her
my (not mine) your you
u u u , the golden girl ,,
What is romance? Wouldn’t the Europeans know — or is it just France? With some idyllic notion of how this all goes. I’m flummoxed and drummin up a big fuss because cuss if I can’t grab hold of this let alone attract a heart or even get the notice that I’ve been kicked out or had I leapt out into some shameful solo career. That’s queer, I can’t even get a holla let alone collect the dollas to support the dream I’ve careened away from. Driving cross-country in my little nissan with a dog in the back seat and now everything I own, son – of – a – bitch, so little stuff I couldn’t fill a house with. I looked back, left the track and found myself lapped by everyone I walked next to, step to the own beat to that drum I talked about, a little stout but walkin proud or did I mean to type pout. Is it love or is it passion that we’re all hoping to cash in and that’s what I’m believin that yeah, maybe then I’m european.
Damn them Europeans got fine ass. I mean art. No I don’t I mean ass. I don’t actually know any Europeans so I’m not really qualified to say that… but hey actually I do, cause Dave Gahan is British and DAMN THAT ASS!
vague italian pasta dishes topped with nonna’s super market brand sauce. sometimes ketchup. paella a la vodka – her mother was a spaniard, her father an italian. ginny grease sparking in the sun light.
cookies.
Christmas, that wonderful time of utter mindlessness.
stirring tea, thoughtfully.
Or not.
sitting at French cafes,
people watching,
sun soaking.
oh, doing nothing isn’t ennui at all.
bask in the european elitism. soak in its snobbery. feel the supreme feeling of european blood rushing through your veins. i am european. i am all that is greatness. i am the pinnacle of humanity. i am. i run. i own.
I love everything european. European food, wine, chocolate, dessert, etc. But above all, I like to have an european career as their opera pianist in their house. Can you imagine? After work, I can go to their restaurant to hang out and eat with friends?
european sluts in black g-strings suck me dry as the desert. european society. eurocentric ideas. old world thinking running the new world. european women in no clothing whatsoever
I remember him fondly. In every dream, he comes to me. I picture is blue eyes the moment they met mine and all I think about is the kiss that never happened. The story that never got told. I leave my imagination to do my living for me. I dream of him and I running the streets of Paris, madly inlove, kissing, drinking wine, but all I have are the memories of his blue eyes.
“This is what is known as the European Style!” he declared, waving towards it with a flourish. Georgina had never seen one like it before, but could tell straight off that it was a fake.
I’d take a trip, explore the historical and beautiful places of my fatherland. A European tour sounds life-changing. But only if you’ll go with me.
Elegance. The lobby oozed it like the richly hued paint of a valuable artwork in some ancient museum…or the home of an arbiter of taste. Already it was hard to breathe, the gilt mirrors carpet the color of dried merlot seemed ready to swallow her.
The woman stood above the skyline overlooking the railing of the building’s rooftop. She had straight, dark hair, cascading halfway down her back in an onyx hue, and kept into place with a straw hat. Her dress was white, swerving out by the knew from the wind.
The war had raged in most of the european cities now, some had seen days of constant gunshots and bombings. Child had started to cry when a high flying birds shadow crossed the city, mistaken it for a bomber plane.
A country a long way from the USA. Refers to people who live in Europe. Their culture is more free and less conservative than Americans.
I study the dark brown mug in front of me …. the color, the aroma. Swirling the cup, I take a small sip. Funny, could’ve sworn I’d ordered the fancy, European stuff. This tastes just like the instant I keep at home for mornings where I’m too rushed to make a proper cuppa. Some companies … just goes to show.
the streets of france were busy with tourists and residents, but mostly tourists. tegan pulled sara by the hand. “come on, we need to get in line!.” she said. sara shru
Quiet night. Fall is here with Winter close behind. There isn’t anything left to talk about tonight so we’ll start with that: not talking. A typist is like a tone deaf pianist. The concerto monotonous, broken, stuttering it’s only beautiful to the eyes. I’m a long way from home and for a good reason. No reason to type about that now though I guess. Do you like the piano? I do. Maybe some people only type because they weren’t any good at the piano. I suppose if someone played the keyboard like the piano it would look awful. I’ve tried typing words with the piano but that’s fairly limited like this piece. Goodnight.
His car was slick and shiny and very black
prowling the city streets in a mystery
searching for the tunnels and the alleys
for his ways are a mystery
Stranger one day, a friend the next
sitting beside him, rear-view mirror check
looking out for the signs and sirens melee
for his ways are a mystery.
He was tall. Tall, and skinny. Freckled, and redheaded. You know, the stereotypical Irish guy. He wore this oversized leather jacket. I never would’ve spoken to him ordinarily, but I was lost.
He had a European style about him. A little more laid back, a little quicker to trust. A cute accent and a smirk that could make your stomach flutter. That’s what I saw. I didn’t see the darker side, the hidden past, the just-sharpened blade.
The world of the europeans ands all we is the victors writing the textbooks, the textbooks, that are so subject to students sorrows and the times midnight horrors from the slave trade to the
The gorgeous woman had a distinctly european look to her; that refined, sophisticated beauty that cannot be found anywhere else in the world.
She was European, this girl. That was different. He had never fucked a European before, only White girls and Asians.
He didn’t know she would be exactly the same.
But was she?
He thought back on their time together, the electricity sparking between them every time their bodies drew close, the stretching, pulling as he achingly leaned away from her.
Was it something that happened just because of her ethnicity?
Or was she the one?
Nick had this hilarious girlfriend named Jane. She was one of the biggest feminist Corrine and Marcy Tills had ever met. They fit in easily in their company and for awhile they stopping needing people. They were at peace for awhile and in each other’s company and long night talks, they found what they had needed.
My first tour in Europe was in England. We were the first wave of Americans, and we built bases for the Army Air Corps, paved landing strips in what used to be a farmers field.
Me. It is where my true self lies. I will be european in Europe. I will skip along cobblestone streets in Italy and eat the finest breads and drink the finest wines in France. I will be european in Europe.
“I thought you said this was European coffee?”
Doug paused with his mug partway to his lips, and a look of confusion flattened the features of his face.
“It is,” he said slowly. “It’s from Europe, that makes it European.”
“I’m pretty sure this is Starbucks.”
I tried a cup of European chocolate yogurt while I was waiting for my bus, at the cost of three dollars and ninety-five cents from the small shop located just a few feet away from the transit center. The owner was very nice – and incredibly Greek – speaking in full, floral sentences as the sharp ends of his consonants were polished enough to slice the air cleanly, not hack it. And he was the one who suggested the yogurt.
oh no what can I say? Europain!
i have never met an euorpean. i don’t know what i would do if i did either. would i ask him or her a lot of questions? or would i dwell on the fact i know nothing about them. what would he or she think of me? would they have questions for me as an American? I’m sure they could c
I think of Geography when I think of Europe. We are working on a project right now, where we have just gotten back from a pretend trip to Europe.
european is so snoobish. I think that european stuff like to be a little naughty too, you see. I mean, european people enjoy being told naughty stuff about them. They get an unshamefull thrill. I bet Hitler did too
I had never heard the phrase ‘cosmopolitan’ until I entered college. It seemed as though everyone around me- with the exception of myself, of course- had traveled abroad. Had met someone European. And then there’s me. I went to Alaska once.
He was European. I was alone and entranced in his spell of times when illusion overpowered intellect. His musk was of cultured man and I fell wildly into him like a child into a pile of leaves. Willing.
A place that I would like to go.ecc
Foreign
Romance
Passport
Vacation
Old
In my soup.
Waiting for my sandwich
At the table by the window
Rain dribbles down the glass
Past my face
I feel very European
Sitting at a cafe
Waiting for something sweet
And coffee
“It’s just…I don’t know. There’s something different about you,”
I cocked my head to the side. “How so?”
“You just…you seem so…European now,”
I chuckled. “You know I can turn off the accent,”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not the accent. Well, not just that. I mean, you were always good at those, even before you left,”