So here’s Anthony, twelve years later. He’s got this white pin on his right breast that reads MY INTERESTS ARE: ANIMALS & POSITIVITY.
Faith is a party you weren’t invited to, and God is a man
in a sheet with poked eyes to see;
you want to believe.
You slept for a few hours after that, but I stayed awake, mostly wondering why you hadn’t yet scraped the popcorn texture off of the ceiling in your house.
The bodies under there, in the corridor, were at an ends; by the time each person entered the airport, their desires were all set about the rooms like a seasoned, wet palette.
The most comfortable place I have ever been is lying on my back on a massage table at the front of a room of the Embassy Suites Ontario Airport in Southern California. I was naked from the waist
If someone insists you smile, it might as well be rape. This movie found a way to nitpick itself the way these types nitpick everyone around them about presenting the right attitude. Someone in this land will always be subjecting you to the editorial fructose of their imperial fertility. If Bird’s intent was to satirize our fretful American condition, I didn’t understand, because I left the fucking theater right when the film began – about an hour in.
When we found the dead whale, we couldn’t recover the eye of it, and because I hadn’t lost my mother, I managed to survive.
There’s so much freakshow in you, Charlie, I thought: I love you, but, look, you’ve been treated like a citizen enough to have cop friends. Sometimes I think you think all creative expression falls under Reganomics. Then he’s in my face with six reasons why I’m hardly pubic or adjusted. Yes, I’m a pussy. I get it.
QUERY 5: About half the time, your APOSTROPHES and your QUOTATION MARKS don’t curl around the way they should— “ or ” , not " , and ‘ or ’ , not ' —which is how I know you are writing half of all your articles on your cellphone.
If you’ve ever been asked to place your anxiety on a litmus test of 1-10 and have no idea what a 10 would constitute, then you know how jarring and disconnected this question could be. I thought about running away from the office, I thought about knocking over one of her plants
Later at night she looked by the fires of Ohio at the burn on her palm
She says the moon is just an overflowing ashtray with butts buried in the dark side.
In the staff meeting she thought about enemas.
Only someone whose amazing art can no longer hide them from the petty philanthropy hopefully juxtaposing the asinine incest of their crimes would issue such a dollar bill of a sentence.
Fourteen tourists had signed up for “Six Days in Glorious Vienna: Open Plan,” and since Kotoko and I were the only singles in the group, it was inevitable that we ended up rooming together at the hotel.
In nearly every used book—bought, borrowed, or salvaged—I’ve found them.
You all don't seem too keen on fiddling here with bloody Henry.
I look down Rue Acorn. Along the red brick factory I live in. And at first all I see are parked cars. Shadows. And the slow moving Sunday traffic farther up the block. Along Rue Saint-Rémi.
You were right, I tell myself with confidence, there are no fucking fallen dogs out here. Just a sack of rice or side of beef. Plain and simple.
I’ve been told, he said, you can make a house out of magazines. Roll them up and seal them in something and stack them up in a grid formation. There are supports, of course. Has to be a framework.
I was drunk and coked up and thought it’d be a good idea to cut through some strange wooded area. Then I was completely underwater.
I tell you I wish my dad would come out as trans like Caitlyn Jenner &/or late-in-life gay like my ex-boyfriend’s father.
Every night since she stays in, thumbing the wheel. She burns napkins and cotton swabs. She burns whatever she can find.
