Getting chemical poisoning together seemed romantic, the closest you could come to being entombed, Pompeii-style, in each other’s arms.

all these changes in my life were made without my consent

all these changes in my life were made without my consent

I was in an S &M relationship with myself.

I was in an S &M relationship with myself.

This place looks haunted as shit.

This place looks haunted as shit.

You touch everything you see. You want everything you touch.

You touch everything you see. You want everything you touch.

It was finally my turn around Christmas time. Sure, I was just one more cock in an endless line, sneaking up to that apartment, but I was not above free pussy.

It was finally my turn around Christmas time. Sure, I was just one more cock in an endless line, sneaking up to that apartment, but I was not above free pussy.

Uncle Dale says, “We’re lucky that none of us can fly.”

Uncle Dale says, “We’re lucky that none of us can fly.”

The human race was absurd and overwrought. Men were feeble-minded narcissists and women, acoustic blowhorns with an endless flurry of wind.

The human race was absurd and overwrought. Men were feeble-minded narcissists and women, acoustic blowhorns with an endless flurry of wind.

Against cloudless skies, any of the available disorders are at your disposal.

Against cloudless skies, any of the available disorders are at your disposal.

I said to Martin Amis once, told him Augie March is a jazz beat novel and he said his son reckons that 

I said to Martin Amis once, told him Augie March is a jazz beat novel and he said his son reckons that 

Now she wore a menacing permutation of the cheerful, customer-service smile he had seen her display earlier.

Now she wore a menacing permutation of the cheerful, customer-service smile he had seen her display earlier.

and what’s the point, really, of casual sex, except to melt the ghosts off someone’s face

and what’s the point, really, of casual sex, except to melt the ghosts off someone’s face

There’s not a thought in the throb. Not an inkling in the coppery clatter of his mouth. There’s only the turn. Only the fist: fast, everything behind it.

There’s not a thought in the throb. Not an inkling in the coppery clatter of his mouth. There’s only the turn. Only the fist: fast, everything behind it.