-There are a lot of guys would pay cash money to be in his position. -Biteman, do you mean homeless and no ID, or married to Zoë Bontemps for three years? -Both. Biteman gave a loud chortle.

Someone has locked themselves in the large stall They’re smoking one cigarette after another And pulling long stretches of toilet paper off the rolls God only knows for what purpose And yelling for anyone who’s outside the stall To go get them

The heart has always been on the sleeve Tonya really needed a heartShe was too young to knowNever forgetting itMichele found it in paradiseBut didn't know what to do with itWatched it fade awayBobbi could have easily had it foreverBut left it on the…

One of his big failings was getting pissed off about things behaving badly but not troubling to immediately fix them. He was working on being more prompt.

He was sitting in the library, slipping the pistachios nuts between his wet lips.

I sit in a small office amongst a huge pile of letters picking out individuals and arranging them on a big square made of something like paraffin

Maybe in some lie you told, your life began making sense. Not mine. But your quiet beauty may be what carries you. We have to both quit eating Couch Potato Chips, and read the book Tender Is the Squid, instead. Your ghosts – they’re so soft and sensitive.

We came wind-milling together ,up and over the blue and yellow stone bluffs, like a couple of empty yet racing nowhere fast plastic grocery bags, catching onto everything and anything in our way, and desperately trying to get free again,…

Holden Caulfield starts a band call Crummy He’s jumping around the stage swearing at everything, every damned thing in his oversized raincoat that he never ever takes off for any reason including when there’s the slightest possibility of having sex

At two AM I went to bed, and the mill shut down shortly after. The silence jerked me out of sleep so fast I almost screamed. Choking and sweating, I lay there and tried to figure out why I was so scared. And then I realized: for the first time in half a y

Suppose a bowl of mushroom soup. A table and a chair. A woman arguing against the uselessness of war. A bomb ticking in a man’s groin.

My mouth is orange rind and whiskey, my tongue a cocktail cherry.

Take a ride past Larry Crane’s 'Jackpot!' recording studio — right here! in the neighborhood! where Sleater-Kinney recorded 'One Beat' and Elliott Smith 'either/or' and Sarah Dougher 'The Walls Ablaze!' woo hoo! — and the kids are singing karaoke.

I’ve previously tried the old-fashioned route to get my books reviewed, calling up editors, asking friends who work at newspapers and magazines to put in a good word for me, stalking . . . I mean, contacting freelancers.

And this will be our testament