Snapchat filter. Left.
My dad had purchased the car for me a year before from a disillusioned actress in the San Fernando Valley. When we arrived at her home to pick up the car, the actress let us in and began sobbing. She said she was moving to Mexico, away from all “this,” waving dramatically out the window to the valley below.
I like to hang out with models. Models, like Chip in Rent Boy, understand the “strange desires of men.” They live a life of the body.
People like when their opponents are sick and twisted. It’s easy to win an argument if your enemies are medically immoral people.
S is for sponsor who you really should call.
but you know there is a Truth Moment coming, and sure enough the next morning he says hey and you say hey and he says sorry about last night
Dexedrine,
obedient beauty,
a low-calorie
alternative
for excess.
and by the way, I wear jeans too, and I’ll fuck that white girl, absolutely, from the commercial, the camera trails her on the beach, she’s smiling, now she’s hiding behind her hands . . .
They put her flyer on their mailboxes and look at me like she’s dead.
You’re probably thinking these things happened a very long time ago, but as a matter of fact it was just yesterday, and yet somehow we are all old and married with children now, even the former supermodel
My boy on the boulevard bubbling.
Triple wick rip tide in my mind.
Seeing a picture of my tits online didn’t bother me as much as it should have.
With snot running down my chin, weeping, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that this key situation would go on forever.
I tried to remember something my dad told me about Luis Aparicio after Ozzie Guillen made an error in a game in 1991.
Your date’s cologne smells like rancid wine, which should be a good enough reason to bail, but it’s only hour two and you’ve made a commitment.
He doesn’t seem to think I’m a handful. I can tell by his texts.
I have to believe that what I am writing — what I am living through — means something.
The Utah girls were already asleep. Unlike me, they were going home in a few days.
The Marathon was born out of a legend about a fifth-century Greek messenger named Philippides who ran 26.2 miles without stopping to deliver a message that the Greeks had defeated the Persians in battle.
