“An extremely rare Pokémon that may evolve in a number of different ways depending on stimuli.” – Pokémon FireRed
What we liked to do that fall—once mornings had grown thin around the edges, the sun sheer like white linen and gone by four o’clock—was to put on eyeliner and these old fur stoles she had collected from thrift store heaps...
On the night I left your apartment, my phone died.
Against what, exactly, is Karl Ove Knausgaard struggling?
I’m a symbol of an America newly forged and I live with like 1000 other turkeys in a yard Who gives a shit
Is Chekov why I’m so sad? I’ll give you twenty bucks for a plot in literature that acknowledges his talent, but ignores him slightly more.
Opus 53
Place the palms of your hands side by side on this wine glass. After a short time, raise your hands and place your eyes at the same level as your palms.
Notice the possible and
What I could buy with the insurance money they gave me when you died:
One Ferrari, red or black, assuming V-8 instead of V-12, assuming premium gas, assuming insurance, assuming no major
I’m in Tom's apartment staring at the big deer head he has hanging on the wall of his living room. Tom has a small place and the deer head looks enormous. Some kind of giant, mutant deer, like it's
- after Directing Herbert White / Writing Ellen West
When James Franco first spoke to me, he said, “Oh, shit. You’re Mr. Hip. We were just talking about you before the reading.”
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My feelings of purposelessness and inadequacy vanished. My feelings of self-pity and despair were replaced by love and affection. No more sleeping around. No more yearning for The One. I had found Her. She was here.
This essay is not about Star Trek in the way that Star Trek is not about space.
Woodcutter
It started when you dreamed you were dead & I had to go looking in other rooms for your body. Turned on each light & either I found you or it was apparent by then that
She asks me to tell her a story. Almost every night she can’t sleep. I’m no storyteller, I’ll say, and at first I would start off with robots and fantastic bears, trying to make my own Where the
Mathematics IIIIIIIIIII
A miracle trapped in a fur coat. A fur coat trapped in its original body.
Mathematically speaking, the body is made up of four essential parts: the arms, the ideas,
I am driving through the hill country when I spot up ahead, in the dip between two hills, this young buck with his thumb out, sleeveless, flaunting the white underside of a supple tanned bicep
I was wearing white lipstick when I pressed a kiss onto the dirty window in the back corner of his mother’s garage, pasting spider silk and bone-colored dust to the glass. I left that mark to be
Founded in 1974, FC2 is one of America’s best-known ongoing literary experiments and progressive art communities.
Lance Olsen is the author of twelve novels, one hypertext, five nonfiction
I spend my free time an appropriate amount of bed sick. I keep a lot of spare pieces of glass up my carpeted self. I mean a literal debris of glass happens when I sit forward.
I stayed in the monastery for a month to read the entire Bible in the Luther translation in German. My reward was that every evening, I would get a pint of ale that the monks made right there, and it came from large rotting oak barrels, which enhanced the flavor. After Gregorian chants, prayers, and then a couple of halb-liter, the monks were pretty close to God.
The girl you spent a whole summer watching Beverly Hills 90210 and eating McDonald’s lunches with ran up behind you, taking hold of your backpack.
I ran into myself at the grocery store the other day. The store had just run out of Cookie Crisp cereal. The worst part was that I'd gone to the store specifically to get the cereal, along with
