Something about the auto workers strike –
Something abt how & why I was a cunt…
Men are tyrants with their time; but women are tyrants with the eternal.
you might smell donkey and driver if the dung laced breeze blows up your nose as my body quivers with new found knowledge of time
i make prices
i blend into aisles
i am a bottle of stool softener
Wafts of ancient loam and wet wood. He had viewed it all with sickening fascination, the swiftness with which something so solid could be torn asunder, cored completely.
I’ve always wanted someone to tell me what I want, to sell me on a life I want to live.
The summer she was without anyone
and I had just left the other girl
in Jersey City,
Molly and I kissed at her house. We were adults
who lived with our parents. She seemed like
He was too poor to erect an everlasting monument in her likeness, all he could afford were words.
I’m trying to do this story to get Kim’s feelings out there, but there seems to be a lot of secrecy and rumors about her death as if people are ashamed of how she died instead of why she died…
Literature is happening all of the time, all around us, all at once.
That was my youth: I developed a sickness, a ruinous crush on the man at the filling station
When a cherub grows up, he hates angels.
We chased the tail laid before us. Scratching and sniffing our way to pain. We took turns leaving consciousness for a few seconds.
I was driving down the freeway listening to Third Eye Blind way too loud
My friend asks if I believe in / gay marriage
I was stationed in Osh, a forty minute flight south of the capital. I had
a decent sized apartment
1. A bottle of orange wine – half a packet of cigarettes.
2. You caught at the bar the space so crowded that people were practically caught under your armpits – grinning nervously, two pina coladas in hand.
3. A kitchen dance – or two.
4. Luther Vandross.
Part I of the book is titled Forest.
Bobby was going down, not on a woman or a man but fast and with extreme force into the frost covered asphalt of a Holiday Inn parking lot, five minutes from the Detroit airport.
My father is talking fast, telling me how the redhead is waiting for him.
Once her parents were reliably asleep she helped herself to a long hot shower, a respite which was what she imagined drugs must be like.
Gone, like T9 texting, is the once exciting novelty of being important, popular, scandalous
This act of attention lifts you momentarily out of your debilitating amiss-malaise.
One night—which was, as it turned out, my last night camming
