Fantasy Football
Arcadia Molinas
Only the best of girls get to play fantasy football and today, that’s me.
Only the best of girls get to play fantasy football and today, that’s me.
Clem wasn’t worried that Joshua would be a catfish.
I extended my time at the Hotel de Paris to fall into the bad habit of making love to the maid. And to recover and regain my strength, as my flu-ish bug was stubborn and I feared being on the road for too long with it.
The idea behind this silencing was that new views might have an easier time taking hold if the old one weren't always barging into the fish schools and stamping on the new view's seeds before the seeds had latched.
I think HH resented me for making him feel pedestrian, a cliché to himself; the male artist requesting a sort of self-censorship of the female artist on his behalf. (Image is everything and/but he wanted to control his; I had no right to it, to my version of it/him, in his male mind.)
Finally she told him she was feeling the same way, but that she didn’t have the words for it. Just the emoji of the face with only eyes and nothing else.
The more lucid among them felt an uplift in his presence; as if, as one patient put it, they were passengers on a luxury ocean liner bound for Europe.
It was cold out.
He never did meet the kid.
He arrived in the city with an STD.
Don’t worry. Birdie closed her eyes. It’s fine.
You are such a hot cowboy and I feel so lucky that you’re with me in this, standing in these dark brain fields right now, I think to myself.
We knew, for example, that according to 23 and Me, White Water didn’t have even a trace of indigenous blood, not even Cherokee, not even if you went back four generations.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s like that theory of the universe, a big bang followed by expansion until collapse, a big crunch, then a big bang again, ad infinitum, so that my curling, turtling pizzle will pop out again, pop in, pop out, poppet, an endless eon’s worth of self-fucking of a higher kind, a higher cruel.
He’d been by himself now for months except for game night with his colleagues and so he multiplied 13 by 47 in his head and divided it down until it was a trace behind the decimal point and then he asked her if she would like to meet him for a coffee downtown.
with beer bongs and messy boys who didn’t know how to do anything but shove shoulders down for head
Over the next few days, through a method of trial and error, I taught myself the basics of frontier survival.
You're glowing, she said. And why would I be glowing? It can't be the gutrot wine, or last week's fast food lunches. It can't be my Quasimodo limp, I smashed my toe on a fire hydrant trying to
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
Garielle's longest, most peculiar, most particularized book. A sure-to-be collector's item. Delivery 4-6 weeks!
“Legs Get Led Astray is a scorching hot glitter box full of youthful despair and dark delight.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of WILD