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<channel>
	<title>the man with the patchwork heart</title>
	<link>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com</link>
	<description>sixty six stories by samuel cole. new story every tuesday/thursday.</description>
	<pubDate>Sat, 18 Feb 2012 17:56:35 +0000</pubDate>
	<generator>http://wordpress.org/?v=2.2.1</generator>
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		<title>farewell</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/kVJJQEAU_4U/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/05/08/farewell/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 08 May 2008 22:56:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[nobody]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/05/08/farewell/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This is the first post that has capital letters, and so yes, this means what you think it means: The Man With The Patchwork Heart is over.

If you haven&#8217;t heard the whole story yet (or just miss it already), you should start from the beginning.

Thank you for allowing me to spin this yarn, and there [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>This is the first post that has capital letters, and so yes, this means what you think it means: The Man With The Patchwork Heart is over.</p>

<p>If you haven&#8217;t heard the whole story yet (or just miss it already), you should <a href="http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2007/09/11/today/">start from the beginning</a>.</p>

<p>Thank you for allowing me to spin this yarn, and there will be many more to follow. In the meantime, you might enjoy my <a href="http://paperwall.org">literary journal</a>. It has other fine stories by many other fine writers.</p>

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		<item>
		<title>grandpa’s journal</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/IvGM-xCWVvw/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/30/grandpas-journal/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 30 Apr 2008 10:58:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[grandpa]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/30/grandpas-journal/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[july 6th, 1971
the man with the patchwork heart, as i&#8217;ve come to know him, told me this story:

&#8220;my parents gave me a heart just like yours. but it was weaker then most and so it started to tear only a little bit on one side. so i tore out a page from my favorite book [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>july 6th, 1971<br />
the man with the patchwork heart, as i&#8217;ve come to know him, told me this story:</p>

<p>&#8220;my parents gave me a heart just like yours. but it was weaker then most and so it started to tear only a little bit on one side. so i tore out a page from my favorite book and pasted it right over the little crack. however, the very next month the paper had ripped and all the underneath was starting to look all black and old.</p>

<p>&#8220;so i started looking around and found another heart pale and throbbing in the street that no one was using. so i picked it up, dusted it off, tore off a piece i thought i liked (oh, how it screamed), and stuck it onto mine.<br />
but even that wasn&#8217;t enough.</p>

<p>&#8220;and i guess from there, i could never get enough, i could only see the tiny cracks forming here and there. so i took pieces from pop up books, from movies, and from old torn up songs. and, yes, my ears became numb to the scream when i stole other hearts.</p>

<p>&#8220;when i got old enough to understand i started to fashion it into the heart i thought other people wanted. i made it pretty; dressed it up in fake silver and fool&#8217;s gold, and that even fooled a few.</p>

<p>&#8220;sometimes someone would come along and rip a piece off here and there, but i would never let them get too far because underneath it was still black and old.<br />
and i assume it&#8217;s only getting worse under there.&#8221;</p>

<p>july 7th, 1971<br />
sometimes i miss my daughter, sometimes she’s the only friend i have in this world.
but i can&#8217;t ever go back now.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>my mother #1001</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/sGJgh9ePiEs/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/24/my-mother-1001/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 24 Apr 2008 11:17:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[mother]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[my mother, in preparation for her own death, dreamed a thousand dreams of those who had died before her. the last dream was her own last breath. this is her last dream:

she closed her eyes and she slept.
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>my mother, in preparation for her own death, dreamed a thousand dreams of those who had died before her. the last dream was her own last breath. this is her last dream:</p>

<p>she closed her eyes and she slept.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>magpie’s last dream</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/rFaZ95AIht0/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/23/magpies-last-dream/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 23 Apr 2008 21:46:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[father]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/23/magpies-last-dream/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[otter,

i had a dream last night:

magpie always wore ballerina shoes, and she had since her 15th birthday when her feet stopped growing, but now she was kind of wishing she hadn&#8217;t. the field she was walking on wasn&#8217;t really a proper field at all, it was all gravely and full of rocks that insisted on [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>otter,</p>

<p>i had a dream last night:</p>

<p>magpie always wore ballerina shoes, and she had since her 15th birthday when her feet stopped growing, but now she was kind of wishing she hadn&#8217;t. the field she was walking on wasn&#8217;t really a proper field at all, it was all gravely and full of rocks that insisted on leaping up and biting her feet. a proper field would have had grass and even a flower here and there, and it wouldn&#8217;t be so silent.</p>

<p>she knew it was a dream. she knew it because she had never seen a field of rocks this big, but she kept walking because she had to.</p>

<p>suddenly, despite the fact she hadn&#8217;t seen it until it was right below her, she was on standing on the edge of a gigantic crack in the earth that went as far to left as it did to the right, which is to say: forever. and she sat down right on the edge, with her feet dangling into the blackness below, and kicked off those ballerina shoes into the cold dark black of that silent hole. she watched them tumble until they were swallowed.
and then she woke up.</p>

<p>she was still wearing her shoes.</p>

<p>i don’t think i have to write you anymore</p>
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		<item>
		<title>roommates</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/QZyshi7Qe0k/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/17/roommates/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 18 Apr 2008 00:59:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[sarah]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/17/roommates/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[sitting down on her brand new bed in the university with it&#8217;s giant nude mattress sarah stared at the person across from her.

this girl looked terribly young with her blond ponytail and horrible smile, and also she looked terribly terrifying.

this new girl stood up, and crossed the big brown room to meet sarah.

sarah&#8217;s father had [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>sitting down on her brand new bed in the university with it&#8217;s giant nude mattress sarah stared at the person across from her.</p>

<p>this girl looked terribly young with her blond ponytail and horrible smile, and also she looked terribly terrifying.</p>

<p>this new girl stood up, and crossed the big brown room to meet sarah.</p>

<p>sarah&#8217;s father had been cutting her hair for some time now, despite the fact that he didn&#8217;t know much about hair, and sarah only washed it every so often (at this moment &#8220;every so often&#8221; was quite a while ago).</p>

<p>there were two monsters in this room.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>my mother #872</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/x5zxgnUDUhQ/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/15/my-mother-872/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 16 Apr 2008 02:56:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[mother]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/15/my-mother-872/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[my mother, in preparation for her own death, dreamed a thousand dreams of those who had died before her. the last dream was her own last breath. this is #872:

his friends told him he couldn&#8217;t do it, but charlie berkly, age 9, had to show them they were all wrong. he was going to swim [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>my mother, in preparation for her own death, dreamed a thousand dreams of those who had died before her. the last dream was her own last breath. this is #872:</p>

<p>his friends told him he couldn&#8217;t do it, but charlie berkly, age 9, had to show them they were all wrong. he was going to swim from one side of that swirling lake to the other. his older brother could do it and so could he.</p>

<p>the morning he decided to start practicing he didn&#8217;t tell anybody where he was going because he knew they would try to stop him. instead he just solemnly ate his morning peanut butter and jelly.</p>

<p>he wasn&#8217;t really planning on making it the whole way across the first time, he was just going out to practice a little. he almost made it a quarter of the way the first time before he started to feel like his energy was half spent and turned back.</p>

<p>the next day, the very next day. he was at the lake playing around with his friends and they said it again: &#8220;charlie, you will never make it&#8221;. so he had to show them right there.</p>

<p>and he almost made it half way with his friends cheering him on from the shore, but by the time he started to struggle everyone knew he was too far out for them to get him and make it back alive (the oldest of them was 10). so they went home.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>nightmares</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/ibvbbkPX28Q/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/10/nightmares/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:49:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[father]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/10/nightmares/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[charlotte,
you have to understand. some days i feel like you were the only star in the black dark of my mother&#8217;s nightmares. but i can&#8217;t think of the star without thinking of the darkness, and i&#8217;m so scared, magpie.

steve
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>charlotte,<br />
you have to understand. some days i feel like you were the only star in the black dark of my mother&#8217;s nightmares. but i can&#8217;t think of the star without thinking of the darkness, and i&#8217;m so scared, magpie.</p>

<p>steve</p>
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		<item>
		<title>smoking: part 2</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/7cOhBqsvdSA/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/08/smoking-part-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 08 Apr 2008 23:23:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[sarah]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/08/smoking-part-2/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[sarah&#8217;s mother died of cancer, and, because of this, she does not understand how people can poison themselves with their own smoke: &#8220;don&#8217;t you understand?&#8221; she screams in her own head, &#8220;don&#8217;t you understand what it is like to die?&#8221;

but, of course, no one can hear her.
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>sarah&#8217;s mother died of cancer, and, because of this, she does not understand how people can poison themselves with their own smoke: &#8220;don&#8217;t you understand?&#8221; she screams in her own head, &#8220;don&#8217;t you understand what it is like to die?&#8221;</p>

<p>but, of course, no one can hear her.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>smoking: part 1</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/Yc0a0evc5D4/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/03/smoking-part-1/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 04 Apr 2008 01:54:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[cody]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/03/smoking-part-1/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[cody smokes now. it used to be, in the time of his fathers, that smoking meant very little; it was easier to smoke then not. but now, now that smoking means slow poison, he does it to prove his immortality.

he knows he will live forever and poison means little to him.

and so: cody smokes now.
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>cody smokes now. it used to be, in the time of his fathers, that smoking meant very little; it was easier to smoke then not. but now, now that smoking means slow poison, he does it to prove his immortality.</p>

<p>he knows he will live forever and poison means little to him.</p>

<p>and so: cody smokes now.</p>
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		<item>
		<title>zombies</title>
		<link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheManWithThePatchworkHeart/~3/-MntF3B2ZmY/</link>
		<comments>http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/01/zombies/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 Apr 2008 00:00:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>samuel cole</dc:creator>
		
		<category><![CDATA[cody]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://themanwiththepatchworkheart.com/2008/04/01/zombies/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[golden green zombies had infested new york city. cody first noticed them a couple weeks after he moved into his little white room. sometimes he would marvel at their brilliance as they sunk their fangs into each other.

he would see them in the convenience store where he got his cigarettes. they would, for some reason, [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>golden green zombies had infested new york city. cody first noticed them a couple weeks after he moved into his little white room. sometimes he would marvel at their brilliance as they sunk their fangs into each other.</p>

<p>he would see them in the convenience store where he got his cigarettes. they would, for some reason, always be around the refrigerators in the back near the milk and eggs.</p>

<p>sometimes they would sit in the row behind him at the movie theatre where he liked to take his dates (movies were convenient because he never needed to talk to her). they would make snarling noises during the sex scenes, or sometimes, only breath heavily.</p>

<p>once, he even saw one disappear into an apartment down the hall from his. after this happened he swiftly marched into his own little white room and tried to write a song that would keep them away, but it came out confused and garbled.</p>

<p>he was not afraid of them, i mean, not very. they didn’t seem to want much to do with him, and seemed much more interested in each other. he did not want much to do with them either, but still he was afraid of being bitten or something and turning into one of them.</p>

<p>he would constantly check his own face in the mirror for any signs of their golden green in his skin.</p>
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