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Valenzuela, Luisa

I’m Your Horse in the Night

Ow. It hurts to type this right now, and I’m not talking about the endless afflictions of emotional pain. This is not something I’m especially proud of, no way, but to be entirely honest with you, because I like you: a little too much had been drunk last night (and I’m not talking about water), by me.

Ow. It hurts to type this right now, and I’m not talking about the endless afflictions of emotional pain. This is not something I’m especially proud of, no way, but to be entirely honest with you, because I like you: a little too much had been drunk last night (and I’m not talking about water), by me. But again: this isn’t to be taken boastfully — quite the opposite, in fact: consider yourselves warned, and let you never follow in these plodding footsteps. This got me thinking: someone recently sent an email, pointing out that he can always tell my mood from my voice, and so I wonder if today’s podcast sounds anything close to the running theme of today’s mood, which if voiced, might have sounded like this: “ow.” Which is awfully close to “ohm,” and, as I’ve recently discovered, equally meditative. Ow.

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By miette

Miette has been podcasting the best of world literature's short fiction since March 2005, when she was just a pup.

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