Writer on social media you most closely follow
James Frey lowkey
You make it quick for me when you get on all fours and talk dirty.
I think you living here will be a disaster, my girlfriend says again because she thinks I haven’t heard her say it the time before.
When I laughed, I laughed like someone crying in a movie. I pushed my face in the pillow, and I laughed, and I forgot what was funny.
He’s thrown away conceit. He wakes up. Starts his day. Does what needs doing. The rest is dreams. Futile strivings. Farts on wishful winds.
When I turn around, Nana stares at me like a startled bird. Dream people have nothing to say once they’re exposed. They go very still and gray—heavy, like sculptures—and dissolve.
At 3PM in an orange-lit cafe on 22nd street I eclipse and come clean to Cece by deleting Hinge
I don't think I've ever had a "fast hot affair."
A journey begun several feet beyond redemption / a line crossed, erased from behind. / Walking through trammeled ground / the path worn to a gully. / Have been here before. / The trees rise and reach.
The two possums in love / are a projection I prefer / to the alternative / indifference / at the worm-heart of all things.
Reward: $200. Reward: whatever you want. Reward: I will come get him in my pajamas, I will come get him from anywhere, I will come get him.
I know I wouldn’t think this way if I’d made some effort to become a better person, but at this point, it’s too late. I’ve come to believe that when you choose a way of living, you need to commit to it like religion or it won’t stick.
During the holiday of their second year, they were nineteen. He was celebrating finally being allowed to drive the old Land Rover his father once used. After dinner he drove her home.
Often have a fantasy of living My Year of Rest and Relaxation and need to remind myself this is not an aspirational book.
The air between his boys started going bad, no matter how long they tried to leave the windows open. They were getting tired of the motels and their poolside women. There were only so many sun-bleached bitches they could do before his boys wanted more.
She springs up, goes to her page, and sees hardly any fans left. The next session has started, but there is no one left in the waiting room. The ones who stay spit insults. She reads them, feels hurt, so she gets no pleasure from it.
Charm cripples our capacity for effective criticism, our will to demand change.
People in Utah spoke about modesty constantly
Literary agent
Never had one. I don't know any of their names.
Diabetic Ketoacidosis and Camus
There is no flight from light, no
solution to the absurd, when
through the ghost we are revived—
the shiny little sun-stars seeing out
like a
Joseph was my internship advisor at a public access TV station in Berkeley
