1969 5 4
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Jerrod's lips and tongue were like slabs of bologna someone shook in Kirsten’s face as she hit the turn signal.
Kirsten was proud of herself. She'd been taking it well and she was pretty sure her real feelings weren’t poking through.
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1969 1 0
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At this time of night, the fluorescence makes his eyes bleed. The muscles in his legs are tight; walking's more of a necessity than anything else. Alexander pushes the shopping cart down the endless gray tile floors of the Grand Union on 35.
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1969 16 9
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homelessness, you called the lie,
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1969 6 6
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The book mind, just like its namesake the book, is capable of movement only after its assembly: otherwise, it boasts no moving parts.
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1969 7 2
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French pee runs stronger, less minty. In France the world' a pissoir.
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1969 5 3
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It's a pretty strange feeling when you think you're about to bite into some ice cream and instead it's gazpacho.
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1969 0 0
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Lighter-than-air flight was back. The skies of the coast were alight with colorful balloons, dirigibles, and zeppelins tethered to their docking towers along the beach, the huge aircraft bobbing in the breeze up and down the coast for miles,…
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1968 10 8
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Time to pull in the shining teeth, but it makes me so sad, you know I'd rather be holding hands. The others have told me, don't hold back, hit them with every white knuckle, and let them bleed out, I'd rather be kissing your face. It hurts,…
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1968 1 1
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After lunch it's vocal coaching: shrieking, screaming, crying Oh-my-God!-Oh-my-God!-Oh-my-God!, panting and face fanning. Next it's ‘situational training', where we pretend to be audience members on real talk shows and practice everything we've learned th
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1968 7 6
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The World's Worst Mime stood there next to the iron carousel, portraying something, and the crowd understood none of it, except that whatever thing he was trying to portray was not being portrayed well at all.
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1968 12 12
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you were very very small, you were everso small, you were like – the tiniest creature, hopping about on one leg
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1968 0 0
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“Have you heard about Lucius?” The lawyer turned to the carpenter. “They say he's gone mad. Just gone; the madness of the gods.” Sitting in the barbershop were the former two, one in his forties and the other of his fifties; a gray-haired…
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1967 15 8
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Effluvium is such a lovely word, so hey surprise it covers rancid butter, vomit, fertile gingko fruit trekked in from the pavement.
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1967 6 5
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weep or go stark mad your amanuensic fool will bury your words
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1967 3 3
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Last night, the station played me a dream of sexual promiscuity that included -- but was not limited to -- imaginative acts involving....
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1967 1 0
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The summer before cancer—the summer of the boy/friend, the summer before Max started high school, the summer when all the decisions about blowing apart their marriage were made—they drove to Martha's Vineyard. Astrid had insisted she wasn't going, rig
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1966 9 8
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In the beginning the revolution was all motion and energy. When the President for Life resigned motion and energy disappeared with the sounds of clapping hands.
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1966 8 5
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Kids are fascinated by me. Adults look the other way. Maybe it's my size. Or maybe it's the stories in the newspapers.
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1966 4 2
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"I was hit by an Amtrak train and dragged a hundred feet, and I'm going to die from smoking cigarettes."
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1966 1 0
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He was the tall, whippy type. Dangerous.
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1966 0 0
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that is a fair description of our family if I add the disclaimer that the girls are whores and we don’t have much in common.
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1966 16 14
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fire rolls through
the drive-thru
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1966 16 6
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...when she spoke, her voice still seemed to spill bourbon from a heavy crystal tumbler, and drift cigarette smoke in a dark paneled room.
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1966 0 1
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I watch my brother carry her into the hospital, and I love him with parts of myself I didn’t know were capable of love. I love my brother with the space behind my eyes, the skin between my fingers, the ends of my hair, the crease in my neck. I love him wi
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1966 4 1
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“He spent four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze, and now Jimmy Buffet is dead.” —Brian Williams, NBC Nightly News “Jimmy Buffet—beloved parrot-head singer-songwriter—has given up his search for that lost shaker of salt. He…
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1966 4 1
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"What's that smell?" Osama glares at me from the front seat of the Trans Am.
"What smell?" I say.
"You smell like a diaper. Are you wearing a diaper?" Osama and Peach both laugh at me.
"No... maybe, its my Baby Soft perfume. Is it too strong?"
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1965 2 0
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His mother was not an aw-come-here-honey-and-give-me-a-hug type mom. She was the kind of mother who, if you had some kind of problem, would suggest that perhaps it might be a good idea to volunteer (she was really big on volunteering) at some sort of orga
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1965 2 1
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She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.
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1965 13 8
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Steel beams. Welds painted over green. Yellow numbers of some sort. Old phone booths. Tags on the walls. I looked up and saw where bits of water fall down from the overpass. Pigeon up there. Washing his wings or something like that. Greyness. I was in a truck.…
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1965 8 6
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For me German was a school subject. For Hymen, who could pronounce German but not speak it, it was a poetic technique or element, shorthand for what ails the world.
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