His family was there. My family was there. My bouquet was made of flies.
Nothing Works: 1
-New York City 2005
I should be through thinking about it. Ok, but I remember just going batshit, breaking up with Vanessa on the payphone. Hanging up, couple minutes,
After the Bombing
Santa did not know how to react to the sight; he only stared. At the granite block, there were three rows filled with ten men, each of whom was Santa. The only thing that
Focus too much time on watching Amanda make cappuccinos.
In times of great dissatisfaction, you will occasionally find yourself dating two men.
I was afraid the security guards would stop us, but they just shrugged when I took the plane out and put it on the field. One of them even said something nice like, “Whoa, that is a cool.” I taxied it from the end zone; it took off and buzzed up into the sky.
We’d do it with whatever was laying around: a jump rope, an extension cord, stray fistfuls of fishing line. Down in the basement, while the babysitter watched Spanish-language television in the living room, we pulled these things taut, secured wrists, ankles, and torsos to my father’s old recliner. Toby was a boy scout, so his knots were better than mine, but I was by far the more skillful interrogator.
Memories are like Asian pears. Store them cold and they will keep.
She climbed shivering out of the river. The Taigan smeared its nose on her shin. Soily fish. Down on the rug, massaging its
Angélica, who is always setting me up with the entirely wrong type of man, invited the raw foodist to lunch. In the crowded restaurant, he sat rigidly upright, munching on sesame seeds, waiting Zen-like for us to decide on a dish.
On the nights my father brings home a new howl my mother prepares a feast and adorns a whalebone corset like a rib carved from the moon. On these nights I love my family because we are together and in this way I have come to worship the wolf.
Faced with the swirling chaos of three days ago, I must hold fast to certain truths.
I realized that my son’s vocabulary, though impressive, would not help much with anything he was likely to encounter in everyday life, now or in the future.
Is there anything more adorable than a drunk toddler? I don’t mean a slurring, stumbling, falling down, cursing toddler, though we often enough found ourselves in that state, but an evenly buzzed toddler, whose mother can offset whiskey intake with soothing butter, maintaining her toddler’s perfect, moderate drunkenness.
Another family story. I can’t get away from it. As Easter approaches, I find myself thinking about one of my aunts who, when it came to transportation, had only known the transportations of
If Conlon wasn’t busy composing music for the player piano, he spent his time mulling over cryptic scenarios that provoked his interest; for instance, how a boat made out of paper illustrated to resemble wood looks like a boat made out of wood.
She glances into a pocket mirror. She is WIFE now. She doesn’t need to go through her lines, she’s been doing this for years.
Michele Lee woos my husband through the screen and also through the decades.
Junior is not getting out of his car.
It’s January in Ohio, and he has just driven all night from Florida. This car—a 1991 Nissan 300ZX—is a beautiful ride, a rich deep cherry color, the colors
Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Not be be missed!
