S is for sponsor who you really should call.

I scrolled through lifeless, overlit live streams as my routine of cycling through the usual forums and apps began. For me, a lot of the attraction came from being able to project my desire onto a performer.

and by the way, I wear jeans too, and I’ll fuck that white girl, absolutely, from the commercial, the camera trails her on the beach, she’s smiling, now she’s hiding behind her hands . . . 

They put her flyer on their mailboxes and look at me like she’s dead.

He never notices my tears.

Seeing a picture of my tits online didn’t bother me as much as it should have. 

With snot running down my chin, weeping, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that this key situation would go on forever.

I have to believe that what I am writing — what I am living through — means something.

The Utah girls were already asleep. Unlike me, they were going home in a few days.

She started to ride by his Marigny shotgun until he came out and became her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, a chef who meets with narcotics anonymously, orchestrates impromptu dinners in the backyard of a liquor store. 

And then Greta. I found her crawling toward the lake, on fire.

There is no hotel breakfast. No air conditioning. No Tour Guide singing in the next room.

When you peed in the cup, Herman was behind you, watching.

‘Did you talk about capes,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Mary said.

But I don’t even know what a collective is. And I can’t remember if he had tattoos.

One weird Halloween everybody dressed up as Elliott Smith.

I was taking a new drug that was making it so I could talk to my car. 

We loved her but expected her to go on and on, weeping with her flowers and crown, reciting poems.

People keep saying that they can’t say anything but everyone is saying everything all the time. 

Finally, Mr. Mackey, the chair of the school’s English Department, delivered a rambling panegyric about the school’s depth of talented writers. I left my seat in the bleachers to fetch a Dr. Pepper from the vending machine.

A life spent on your tiptoes, trying to fish the moon from the sky is, in fact, very good.

Chemsex stops for nothing. 

They were a bull dyke in a bull dyke’s body, so God refusing to LET [THEM] DIE was more like, fuck.

MIDGE: i tipped the guy $6 and i never tip in ubers

He struggles to come up with actions that give him a sense of joy or purpose when she is not around.