108 2 6
|
Everybody screwed up their faces, struck out their arms, stumbled and groaned. Panik-Udo knocked his heels together and shot up his right arm, Dr. Strangelove-style.
|
223331
|
I became a fool for Adrienne Parker the first moment I set eyes on her.
Whenever Parker walked into Oliveira's Cafe my breath would stop. I'd try turning away, then find my gaze locked on her face. Maybe it was her bare arms that I found so appealing
|
3100
|
The next day was my faculty trial, and things grew real intense around the campus. A large crowd of students began to gather around the base of the building that housed the administrative offices, where my hearing was being held. The meeting room was up o
|
147920
|
I began to imagine the shadows, so rectilinear, were arcing and flowing. I saw shoulders moving, the sinewy upper shoulders of wolves running in a pack. . .
|
182162
|
A sticky glass. An open copy of Outside magazine. A flat part of the meadow that reeked of blood and cologne. A dog (my dog) hidden in the closet, shivering so hard the hangers jangled.
|
1301
|
Damion was not this skin and bones saint. He was not the ascetic he carved himself out to be. He did not exist in a vacuum consuming and being consumed by only art. He was not all these things. And he was not always so painfully sober.
|
2951
|
Will, high on liquid coke, jumped up and down in the sterile dining room, up and down on an occupied long table, up and down, yelling— …
|
38063621
|
Mina stumbled and fell headlong into her apartment, smacking her knees and palms on the hardwood floor.
|
1330
|
There were aliens at Roswell after all. Hundreds of the dusty bastards.
|
14730
|
Cats always seemed very European to me, flourishing as they did in decrepit, ancient spaces as long as the food kept coming.
|
300
|
Bad luck runs in families, Mother always said. And with misfortune, comes malice.
|
155400
|
The man that had been in the driver's seat approached. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he said.
|
129130
|
We do not say the phrases that would smooth things over.
|
150700
|
You do not open the wound all at once. You do not slice or cut or slash. You stroke, as a lover's finger strokes the skin of her beloved. You slide the blade lightly over the surface. You do not think, I am hurting myself. You do not think, pain. You slid
|
5541
|
The serious writer is working on his first novel.
|
