...darling Jennifer Jason Leigh. An actress who knows pain and ain’t fucking around. I miss her for his art. Margot at the Wedding is devastating. It is pursed-lips mean. You can’t measure its parsimony on heart. 

9. pearls for the gentry
10. marriage material
11. salvaged material
13. some burning islands

Here, in the green glass light of the parlor, Swaingrove cultivates its memories.

I just finished reading Upright Beasts. I adored it. Thank you for writing the stories and putting them together in a collection. First, I'd like to talk about surveillance, a theme that is heavy

he whispered Fuck this shit, and I asked him what he meant.
All he said was I have to go and put me on hold. Now all I am sure of
is Whitney Houston in my ear.

in the movies the alcoholic always swims alone in the dark

I am not saying the clarity is a hoax, just that it is a bit expensive 

how do you know how to make a
difference in my life? I’m so happy.
I’m at a news release from prison in
my head.

Jordan Castro's thoughts re: Young Thug's Slime Season and Drake/Future's What A Time To Be Alive in the first installment of his new column re: rap & rap-related things, "The GwalaCost."

Gary Coleman walks into a bar and says something sassy, but the bartender’s a bear, so instead of replying he stands on a big rubber ball and juggles. There’s a song maybe too, in the foreground perhaps, something an organist might feel inclined to play.

Because my father dips himself / into the vagina of a Swedish woman // and is never found again, / my mother's heart dies.

E says the sky is fuller today and I say it isn’t. Meaning we aren’t significant so why would our surroundings be.

By the time I hang up, the goats turn into Roger Clemens and Pedro Martinez. We smoke my last cigarettes, the three of us. 

When it’s my turn to order coffee I look anywhere but her eyes and whisper “soy latte” like it’s a secret. When she asks my name I tell her. It doesn’t matter how you spell it.

*

The

Jordan Castro writes some jumbled thoughts re: "slang" then writes about some words that he likes...

Roy Scheider is afraid of the water. He has been his whole life. It’s a difficult one to explain, especially considering the life he’s chosen: chief of police for a beach community on a small

If you’re of the age to have returned that difficult game (I’m too trapped nowhere between gen Xers and millennials to pipe up about this or anything, though I favor the X for its aesthetic absurdities pluming in the early-to-mid 90s culture that raised me), or are of the mindset to grouse at the receipt for any difficult entertainment, then your whole life is probably you snitching on yourself under the guise of being genuine, and you should continue to embrace your deciphered and dimensionally rounded community of bullshit Star Wars enthusiasm which predominately infects the arts (or get fucked in your ball cap). 

Magnolia, Ambrosio, Valance stand still as three pillars. Amongst the ruins of the Roman Empire.

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. 

[Previously on... Part 1]

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.