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In the early days of the atmosphere there was less dirt, and the rain had trouble falling. There were no stoplights on earth, only rivers of white light. Early man and birds collided in the upper air, because everything was clear and light like a feather.
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1437109
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She asks me what she should do, and I say I don't know because I'm no good at handling fragile things. She says, let's talk about you. I say I can't - phone signal, you know. She calls me anyway, twice, then leaves a message saying that she just wanted to
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191842
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I know I know how many times you want me to tell you I’m sorry, okay?
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96242
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Gripping the sink, head bowed, I let the blood gather on the rim of my nose, pooling for a moment, before its fleeting journey towards the basin.
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3911
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I saw the news today, O boy!
“Cows Bound for Slaughterhouse Make a Dash for Freedom.”
I told my punk rock band Frying Tumors about it,
And what do you think they said?
“Things are disturbed enough already
Without cows getting into the act.”
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3900
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This blog seemed to find me. The post I read couldn't be real. The blogger had a session in his therapist's office without the therapist. He'd already been there once that week and paid his hundred and ten dollars. In thirty …
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17000
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She could feel him going limp inside her, and the anger swelled as he lit another cigarette with the previous one, paying her little mind other than to blow the smoke in her general direction.
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1024127
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We eat, sleep, play Scrabble on our iPads, and go down to breakers at sunrise and sunset. The sunset is spectacular.
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102332
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Self-possession. He had it. In his arctic white t-shirt; blonde haired, broad shouldered, unburdened. “I will make you love me,” he had said, in a bar.
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49021
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As has happened many times in my life, I heard his voice in my sleep and I saw him, though only briefly. Over the years I have seen this man I thought was him clearly and known when he was in danger – a car wreck at twenty (I was correct on everything b
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3100
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A few minutes later I met her.
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24691615
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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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92200
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“Has a letter arrived for me?” Billy sat on the third stair from the bottom, drumming his little hands on his Spider-Man pyjama bottoms. “Dad!”
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of Jim Beam when I was maybe fifteen. Or anyway old enough to admire the lesson.
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“No names,” she said. “I am the mysterious woman, and you are the handsome stranger.”
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