A life spent on your tiptoes, trying to fish the moon from the sky is, in fact, very good.
The other half was the memories of the end. The time Teddy had threatened to burn the only copy of my novel.
crushes and snorts several thousand milligrams of sildenafil on a nsfw livestream and masturbates until his heart explodes
They were a bull dyke in a bull dyke’s body, so God refusing to LET [THEM] DIE was more like, fuck.
He struggles to come up with actions that give him a sense of joy or purpose when she is not around.
Do I break up with my Venezuelan surfer and move back to Alaska? I debated. Or bring him to the U.S. and marry him?
Abigail’s face blotched with hot blood. I made my way to the back of the room, ordered a whiskey at the open bar, repainted my lips cherry red.
Yesterday, The Coffee Cart Guy on 38th and 6th had sex with Rachel on the floor of his metal breakfast cart.
The humid air mingling with my warmth stretches my sense of self this morning. Settling again into my day, I guide myself to the kitchen to make my breakfast. The routine comforts me. I’m tragically
He says he feels like all his problems would be solved if he stopped going to that bar.
he flashed a toothless grin, all James Dean California Cool, a tan blonde blue-eyed surfer type. I imagined him as the boys Lana sang about.
Things that make sense: plants, deer, video games, sushi, beer.
When taking drugs of this caliber – drugs that show you death’s light – there is always some part of you that wants to die.
The artist class?
Wild as the jungles they came from,
where boas flexed around their trunks —
like my other brushes with miracles,
the men who love you back, how they come
to you, gorgeous and invasive,
Jimmy’s thing was his violent ability in soccer. Bismarthalou’s was in his preposterous name and the mystifying way in which he spoke of his potentially fictitious motherland.
I had started doing aerobics and running in place in our townhouse living room when Chad was at the golf shop. I’d found a recipe for whole wheat banana bread and I made a loaf every Sunday and every
“There’s no reason to spread melodramatic rumors about the delay of the album,” she says
He stole my Tupperware, the largest one in a glass Pyrex set.
His white face is red. Mom taught me that people turn red like tomatoes when they’re drunk. I look around and see pink and red faces all around me.
I was telling stories. I was enjoying music. I was proselytizing. I was observing.
