1881 5 1
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Leave your dog and your dog-eared lovers at the door. I smile at the bouncer, pay my ticket, and wink at a slasher chick. She gets pumped on heavy metal gods and Kwaito
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188110
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Jasmine invited herself over and plopped herself on my futon. "Let's fuck," she said, bluntly. "I want to."
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188165
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What doesn't kill you gives you great material.
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1880136
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We make our way into the Colosseum–excuse me, the Prince Spaghetti Colosseum–and take in the beauty of Italy’s national pastime; sadistic cruelty to wacko religious cults.
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188083
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“Would you consider renewing for the next season?”
“We’re not interested.”
“Can I ask you why?”
I considered my reply. I was thinking of mincing my words. The man on the other end of the line seemed, how should I put this, somewhat s
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18802315
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“Why, you tell a story,” one young fellow said. The expression on his face said “How gauche, how passé!”
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188076
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The trouble with paper horses was not how flimsy they were when you were flying them, reigns in hand, high enough above the treetops that falling would mean more than a bruised knee.
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188054
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“If you guys ever get back together, I’d make him sign a contract.”
I smiled, but cautioned, “Not sure that would work.”
She answered with emphatic confidence, “You haven’t seen how good I am at writing contracts!"
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188020
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Someday they'll find me face-down in a puddle of ink.
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187974
|
You want to read, you know where to click.
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187942
|
I saw God sobbing in a wheelchair
His legs didn't work and He had no hair
I saw God sobbing in a wheelchair
Nobody else was there
Nobody stopped to stare
Nobody seemed to care
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187944
|
by the time he's moves onto knives, she has appeared in next door's window: sliver of nut-pale belly, fingers wet with suds, nails painted bright as glitterballs.
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187941
|
He lit my cigarette even though he didn't want me to smoke. Buying me drinks all night, he didn't complain, but he thought I drank too much.
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18791514
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The mandatory is not / your friend
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187976
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His eyes drift over the body of every
woman who enters Starbucks, even though
he’s old enough to be their father or grandfather,
still his eyes are aware of every shape passing by,
refusing to let go, and die.
Maybe they’re speaking Polish or
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187920
|
Her mother told her once: "Don't be no whore, Fe-fe."
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18791411
|
I'm sure someone somewhere must havefelt something like it before. Imean I've never been able tohave this kind of deep longing asif you might want to forget everythingyou know. I always figured that funny stuff onlyhappened to folks in a foreignfilm. Not to some guy…
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1879109
|
The winner was some kid from Ohio or Oklahoma -- one of those states that begins with an "O" and ends with a yawn.
|
187985
|
We might as well be honest: we’re talking about the two of us here.
No one, not even the cameraman, had any idea even after all these years. For more than a decade we’d been bringing the six o’clock news into a medium-almost-major market region.
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187830
|
The first photo above shows plainly: five children dressed in suits and dresses. There are three girls. Each girl wears a yellow sundress with chiffon ribbons. The boys have been terrorizing them--the girls, not the dresses.
|
1878107
|
The first husband was young and lovely. He had a little nose and long fingers he used for things like planting begonias in my clay pot. I did not do flowers. So that was nice.
|
187821
|
The punk boys are my favorite. They come with an attitude, the piercings and the chains and the baggy pants with their underwear hanging out. I’m a punk myself, I tell them. The long white hair and beard? They’re real, my friend.
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187830
|
Henry's had a messy day. He splashed, he jumped, he rolled and played. He wrote in books, dressed up the dog, And on the wall he drew a frog. He's wearing dinner, seconds too, And for dessert some fruity goo. It's come to live on…
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187895
|
so for penance, the priest gave me the full twelve Stations of the Cross
|
18781917
|
It felt like I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, like I’d walked into a house that looked like mine, but belonged to someone else.
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18781815
|
Put sunscreen on your / bones.
|
187711
|
This is the story of my friend, Gil
|
187721
|
I built a house in the middle of the ocean. I used sunlight for nails. Wind for wood. Stars for chandeliers, the moon for a doorknob.
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187721
|
“The Boy from Thuringia” is part of a series of stories collectively called The History of Adoption. In it, a middle-aged man sets out rather obsessively to write a comprehensive history of the adopted child. In his attempts to finally begin this im
|
1877198
|
He stared at the mirror, his hair looked chewed up–severed by a miniature lawnmower.
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