<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<rss version="2.0"
	xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
	xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"
	xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
	xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
	xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
	xmlns:slash="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/slash/"
	>

<channel>
	<title>leftenglishinnewyork.com &#187; Fiction</title>
	<atom:link href="http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/category/writing/fiction/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com</link>
	<description></description>
	<lastBuildDate>Wed, 12 Jan 2011 16:41:13 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<language>en</language>
	<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
	<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
	<generator>http://wordpress.org/?v=3.1.1</generator>
		<item>
		<title>On a Train 1</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/on-a-train-1/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/on-a-train-1/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2009 17:38:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=211</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Three minutes and forty five seconds is the average time you’re trapped between stops on the A train between Brooklyn and Manhattan. There isn’t a huge amount that can happen in that time, but, for example, it is enough time to get attacked by a drunk, homeless, drug-ridden, disease-ridden, defecating, lonely, sixty year old. For [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/on-a-train-1/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Poem That got me Reported in Class</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/the-poem-that-got-me-reported-in-class/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/the-poem-that-got-me-reported-in-class/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2009 16:51:25 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=196</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I went to the New School and did a poetry class (my first ever). We were asked to write a concrete poem (one where the positioning of the words on the page mean something). I did the following, and it got me reported. I understand the writing isn&#8217;t great, but was it really worth an [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/the-poem-that-got-me-reported-in-class/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>A Plutonian Snore 2</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-plutonian-snore-2/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-plutonian-snore-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2009 16:46:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=194</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Fed up upon a midnight dreary, I labored with eyes red and bleary, O’er an epic tome of aging prose and poems bound to bore— While I noodled, nearly napping, suddenly an inner clapping! Rhyme, no less, had found a way of slapping me awake once more. “’Tis a happenstance,” I muttered, “a weary chance [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-plutonian-snore-2/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>And Now We Wait &#8211; a Dream</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/and-now-we-wait-a-dream/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/and-now-we-wait-a-dream/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:24:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=169</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[- Written on Nov 15th 06. It was as if I’d appeared in the foyer of an airport. It was as impressive as it was empty. Huge window arches, sweeping swathes of light reflecting off the walls, the floor a collage of grey and brown patterns, the faint sounds of jet engines echoing around an [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/and-now-we-wait-a-dream/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Freewrite, May 3rd, 2006</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/freewrite-may-3rd-2006/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/freewrite-may-3rd-2006/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Aug 2009 17:59:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=100</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[- Fuck and leave babies in the street. Awesome. Oh my god, I’m sitting around a bunch of sentimental idiots. Fortune and family; the main flaws of humankind. Gone should be all the contraceptions, gone should be the cellophane wrap, the pills, the family planning videos! We should all fuck and leave the babies in [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/freewrite-may-3rd-2006/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Freewrite, Sunday June 20, 2007</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/freewrite-sunday-june-20-200/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/freewrite-sunday-june-20-200/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 15 Aug 2009 16:34:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=92</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[- I don&#8217;t understand it either, but rhythmically it&#8217;s good. I guess this was an experiment. If it were I who bore the stupid seed, perhaps the flowers would wilt all the same, this time in pity, and not because of the torrential rain.  Poetic herecy, heretic postulate, postmortem hatred, it is all the same.  [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/freewrite-sunday-june-20-200/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>A Story From the Damned</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-story-from-the-damned/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-story-from-the-damned/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 15 Aug 2009 16:29:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=89</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[There’s no way of stating the obvious.  I am not a happy man.  Linda, however, her charm and grace a memory too horrible to forget, seems just as full of life as in her youth, but perhaps I am wrong.  She had loved me then, when I was full of the hopeful cynicism only the [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-story-from-the-damned/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Balham</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/balham/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/balham/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 15 Aug 2009 05:08:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=71</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Edgar Finkleditch pauses from his daily strut down the Balham high-street shopping mile, to find himself staring into the large, fancy mirror in an antique dealer’s window.  “Fantastic,” he mutters, not to the two ladies who avoid him on their way past, but to the world in general.  He continues his walk — a confident [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/balham/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Ghandi, Death and the Queen</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/ghandi-death-and-the-queen/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/ghandi-death-and-the-queen/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 15 Aug 2009 04:52:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=66</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[1 Gandhi pushed his glasses up his nose and walked towards the water fountain. The asphalt was soft, the sun warm, and he needed a drink. The reflection, of course, still showed the people burning and smoking and having same-sex relationships and watching r-rated movies and playing Taboo. It was refreshing. His hands spilled more [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/ghandi-death-and-the-queen/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>A Plutonian Snore</title>
		<link>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-plutonian-snore/</link>
		<comments>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-plutonian-snore/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 15 Aug 2009 04:35:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nick</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/?p=61</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[- for class. Finally my professor had given us something that wasn&#8217;t terrible to read, Edgar Allen&#8217;s poem, Lenore. Fed up upon an evening dreary, for my mind a question queries, O’er a tidal wave of aging prose and poems bound to bore— While I noodled, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://leftenglishinnewyork.com/writing/a-plutonian-snore/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>

