But the merch guy was always your ticket in.

He never returns. That summer, it is just Olive and Rhea.

It’s not necessarily loneliness that I feel but rather a burgeoning propensity toward violence.

“Aren’t hot dogs a little, you know, phallacious?” Sam asked, the words rolling out of his mouth like marbles.

“I’m a Halloweenie.”

“I hate you,” he said under his breath, but just loud enough that he hoped she would hear him.

Left to its own devices, the body is remarkably adept at disappearing. Left to others’ devices, its
veins are flushed and filled, lips are sewn shut, eyelids are propped.

I went in every Manhattan bookstore looking for The Cows by Lydia Davis.

I wanted to feel like a domestic woman, like the kind of woman who made salmon and vegetables before going out. Then I was that woman because I’d tried to be her.

I have the feeling that, if she wished, Tiff could control me entirely through simple elbow voodoo; just a loose jet-lagged tilt and I would fall to the floor, start foaming at the mouth.

She said she was mad because I portrayed her as a vaguely inconvenient antagonist side character.

Nina got drunk every Thursday.

I wash the semen off of my hands in the pool.

You will never truly know Valerie, because you will never find my son, nor hopefully want to after his trite art project that is endangering us all is laid to rest by what follows.

It is a widely known fact that Arledge created Monday Night Football in conjunction with the American Suicide Watch as a way to stymie a flood of Monday night suicides.

The only clothing I wore was an adult diaper to which almost every older male crew member made a comment.

How I angled myself. How I smoke inside. How things leave impressions.

this an excerpt from a longer story...

I knew my assumption was flawed. Not all heterosexual fucking was violence.

Sitting there and watching them I unexpectedly got the radiance. My body felt light as a flower, my breathing itself gave me great pleasure and my hair seemed to fly up and outward like wispy silk. I smiled and then laughed. Peter and Melita looked up and laughed also. Such musical sounds. Little bells.

Like all bad people he is only bad for a millisecond at a time. 

The darkness of the nightclub is an airborne aphrodisiac, a medium fixating through more or less “real” encounters among empaths of mind, emotion and body. At their center is the glitter globe,

I hover above the toilet, my thighs rock hard as they hold my body in a seated position. The walls are covered in yellowing images of women from the 70s. Half-clothed, their nipples are big and

On your knees, piggy Macy replied.

The West was declining, masculinity was dissolving into cotton-candy sky. There are few of our kind remaining… his brothers wrote in the Instagram comments of a masculinity influencer. Come with us now, the influencer had written. There are new worlds to save.

Maybe I was smoking all wrong, but it appeared that I needed another smoke.

It’s been two weeks since our last contact.

Bud is either dead, on a bender, or has forgotten about me.

I pick up my iPhone.

 hey. I type.

The message bubble turns green.

Bud, what’s