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Bess spent the summer that year at a lakeside court in Lake Elsinore. They told her she only had to spend three months there, before she was allowed to have a spot of her own at the nudist camp. Just three months. But Lake Elsinore seemed like something
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I write to you from waiting for the world to end. I will leave this in a desk drawer.
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One day I was sucking down the HG French Vanilla, and the next day my body plugged itself into some universal energy grid. Like some unseen force had snuck into my body and somehow a biological experiment had gone terribly wrong. The unintended result was
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I was thin and young. There's a kind of freedom to be found when walking around inside that kind of body, that allows you to have in this world what's known as a presence. People see you eating but they can't make out what for. You're not going to…
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and floated along withus like it was attachedwith a string. I thought thatmeant we had a boat incase of emergenciesbut she said it was sadto see it followingin our wake like a cork.I still think it looked everybit the stylish silver-capped swimmer doingthe…
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She was proud of her breasts, which were large, adult size. I didn't have any breasts yet, but the doctor said not to worry.
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All eyes aim towards the heavens.
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She wanted one, she said. She wanted one who looked like me. I wanted one, because I wanted her. I wanted her for everything; I wanted her to fill every crack and space inside of me.
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During the course of her life Cleo screwed every single President.
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It was a sore molar that was giving me trouble, on the bottom right. The dentist, about whose adulterous affairs everybody in the neighborhood knew and whispered about, ts-ts-ts'ed me and murmured "decay" before pulling out the drill.
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Every few days, on one of our walks, the dog and I go down to a shallow, quick river...
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Although decades have passed since I last tasted lysergic acid with diethylamide flavoring, I cannot fail to remember the tasting.
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The streets have terrible breath, it’s said, and everyone hides but the young, who have slick, naked shoulders and fragrant tobacco shreds in the linings of their empty pockets.
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...the job was easy, just pour and deliver, pour and deliver.
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My niece Katie is wailing outside for all the world to see. We are standing in the Dillard's parking lot and she is drawing everyone's attention. Well, everyone in a 46-block radius. It has just been that kind of weekend--a wailing weekend. My sister-in-
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Marie knew that she should get out of the tub. She understood that Ellen was at the point of explosion. But Marie was too invested in imagining the picture she made at that very moment. As if through Benoit Doniel's eyes. As if it was a scene in a movie.
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461332
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If you work in a library, you work with book carts, so naturally you give them nicknames. You could call your faithful book cart Bumpy, Squeaky, Rusty or Tipsy. But surely you can do better than that! Here's…
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And now the McRib
is back. Two dollars.
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The Italians live on top of the ruins of Roman cities and medieval settlements, of the towns and villages of the Visigoths and the Vandals, gesticulating, fornicating, craving poems, like all of us.
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The world moves its roving glass eye around in front of you like a dog trying to flip over a frisbee, as if trying to show you how the loveliness of all things here and yet there, from an anything goes, different, always shifting,…
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We weren't sleeping much, either one of us. We went through the ritual, Pat and I. I brushed and flossed and got into bed and read while Pat took her contacts out and applied a…
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I had time to kill. I got on the merry-go-round, letting it go slow, thinking of starting blocks, how I might push off them.
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Schrödinger's Cat twitched and nodded as he picked up the discards, casting his mind back to 2014, when local confidence seemed at its peak . . .
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"Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,/The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors./I walk among them, but none of them are noticing."
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Sylvia used his computer to write two-page stories about women who killed themselves with blue pills because the shirts came back from the laundry unpressed and their husbands stayed out late with secretaries. Every story ended with the image it began.
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A wrinkled old woman sat at the table next to me. “Are you a writer?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you Jewish?”
“No, I’m not,” I replied.
“Where do you come from?” she asked in her broken English.
“Chicago,” I said. “The Bohemian ghetto there, o
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"... not just a jerk, you're like the king of the jerks!" the Black man said as they came into earshot. "When other jerks look for leadership, they just pick up their cell phone and you're pre-programmed in as the first entry on their speed dial!"
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The man is not happy at home. When he sees his wife or his son, he
knows that he should be, but he is not.
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Calm down, I wouldn’t classify this as a sex dungeon.
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