as I imagine only you canyou're the ocean on fire before anyone else hasbroken that ancient seal, or simply taken the first icy plunge.You can eatall the bitterfruit there is, but that stilldoesn't make theworld a more hatefulplace. Only people…

I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.

Sir Reginald Lionel Windsworth described the match in Englishmen's Lahore Gazette as, "A plethora of mistakes and complete absence of human sense."

The next time I see you, I’m going to pretend you’re a stranger, and that I’m meeting you for the first time.

There’s an unending parade of drifters, outlaws and crazies and I always have to watch my back, but, then again, that’s nothing new.

Prabo was late. It wasn’t like him, I thought, sitting on the steps of the Galle Face Hotel, the Indian Ocean pounding the beach abutting the nearby Galle Face Green and spraying fine mist everywhere. Or at least it didn’t seem like him.

I blame the fucking mosquito net.

The church pews were straining at the crowds who had come to see David get saved. There was no salvation in the water really, but the Baptists preached the gospel of immersion. There was a certain Baptist church in Kentucky that pressured a man who'd been sprinkled to get…

I wonder how many crumbs he can drop to make a cookie, whole, so I can relax a little and throw out the self help books about how I'm not right in the motherfucking head,

The tiger-eye beads around her neck would wink at me like a nervous uncle sharing a secret with a child. They roll on her sternum like marbles. At night, on her nightstand, they whisper my secret to the patchouli-scented room. How long have they known?

LECTURES A Bra Burning When Freud painted “Envy,” the women collapsed, holding fans to their faces. Hot that year, they retired to the Tyrols. 50 Days of Palindromes Although Thiebaud painted cakes like women,…

He pours both of us another drink and I take a gulp, even though it seems to be half vodka. My body slows, the alcohol confusing my nervous system. I rest my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t reach out to me. I wonder if this makes me the aggressor, but, a

Some things are meant to be repeated

fuck you Charles Bukowski go cry in your eggs in a Jersey diner

As airplanes fly low over her children playing in the kiddie pool on the front lawn, Maureen learns something else about her father's new house that lies in the flight path of an international airport.