I scrolled through lifeless, overlit live streams as my routine of cycling through the usual forums and apps began. For me, a lot of the attraction came from being able to project my desire onto a performer.
but you know there is a Truth Moment coming, and sure enough the next morning he says hey and you say hey and he says sorry about last night
Dexedrine,
obedient beauty,
a low-calorie
alternative
for excess.
and by the way, I wear jeans too, and I’ll fuck that white girl, absolutely, from the commercial, the camera trails her on the beach, she’s smiling, now she’s hiding behind her hands . . .
They put her flyer on their mailboxes and look at me like she’s dead.
You’re probably thinking these things happened a very long time ago, but as a matter of fact it was just yesterday, and yet somehow we are all old and married with children now, even the former supermodel
My boy on the boulevard bubbling.
Triple wick rip tide in my mind.
Seeing a picture of my tits online didn’t bother me as much as it should have.
With snot running down my chin, weeping, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that this key situation would go on forever.
I tried to remember something my dad told me about Luis Aparicio after Ozzie Guillen made an error in a game in 1991.
Your date’s cologne smells like rancid wine, which should be a good enough reason to bail, but it’s only hour two and you’ve made a commitment.
He doesn’t seem to think I’m a handful. I can tell by his texts.
I have to believe that what I am writing — what I am living through — means something.
The Utah girls were already asleep. Unlike me, they were going home in a few days.
The Marathon was born out of a legend about a fifth-century Greek messenger named Philippides who ran 26.2 miles without stopping to deliver a message that the Greeks had defeated the Persians in battle.
She started to ride by his Marigny shotgun until he came out and became her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, a chef who meets with narcotics anonymously, orchestrates impromptu dinners in the backyard of a liquor store.
And then Greta. I found her crawling toward the lake, on fire.
“To be inside of someone's mind has to be the sexiest thing in the world.”
I was still pouting over hometown boy, and neck-deep in an article about foiled wallpaper when I got a Facebook message from Preston. Could we get together?
He puts down his High Life. His pale hand drifts across the table toward mine
