Charley and I met freshman year of college. She was the blonde one, whereas I was not. I was never the blonde one. We went to college on a big hill, warm in the summer, warm in the winter. We both
I kept swinging, and he started headbanging to the music.
In this book, I kept using the word “buzz” in various forms. Buzz, buzzy. I think I even got the word “bloodbuzz” in there, which I stole from the band The National.
Those long walks and unresolved questions gave him an appetite. For skin and flesh. The allure of degeneration presented itself again. This time as a salve for pain.
They traded stories the way people pass a cigarette back and forth.
“If you knew me, you’d already know the answer to that,” she said. We were fighting I realized.
Best writing advice you’ve received?
Press on the bruise.
The next day, she threatened to slit my throat in the dead of night, said my sheets would run redder than every last cunt in Orange County.
There were all these portraits of me hung on the walls and they would dance on the frames,
the shadow people that spiritually strapped my body to the mattress.
He wanted to eat her out while she read his book aloud.
“You want to go to Heaven with me tonight?” Juniper delicately dropped one of the pieces of sandwich into her mouth.
The universe seemed filled with women, aside from my brother and I it was all women and they did everything and chatted amiably amongst themselves,
The cow udder, Freud wrote, was in its form a penis and in its nature a breast, and therefore the intermediary between penis and breast. The blowjob was therefore the image of innocence.
We had enough coke on us to keep the entire party going until sunrise, and when the late arrivals started trickling in, we got practical.
Book: Alice, or The Wild Girl
Cincinnati radicalized me.
DIY Girl turns shit into sugar, men into murderers. DIY Girl is a melted qt-colored crayon
