As they walked through their friends’ beautiful house, he was saddened to glimpse the exhaustion in his wife’s eyes. For her it had been for poorer, not richer, and in sickness, not health.
The things you joke about during the day can fill you with dread in the middle of the night.
Few people are cruel enough to say what they’re thinking.
·
A few times a month I take the empty gun from the drawer and hold it to my temple. If someone asked why, I’d probably come up with something about “clearing the mind.” The truth is, I just like the way it feels.
·
Last week for the first time I took a bullet from the cigar box, loaded it into the chamber and gave it a spin before holding the gun to my head. I can’t describe the surge of adrenaline as I visualized pulling the trigger.
Time reveals in some the bowling ball-head gene, and in others the cinderblock-head gene.
Not really a grid, but grid-signifying ornamentation.
There’s a term for designers using their practices to address critical societal issues: delusions of grandeur.
His had been a life of accomplishment to no one but him. For him it had been a miracle.
The symbol of the cross, which refers to the indivisible nature of the spirit and the incarnate existence it is nailed to.
What differentiates man from animal: vulgarity.
Route 73 roadkill, returned to earth after months as public spectacle, I salute you.
He had lately been spending as much time as possible in the company of animals. No animal had ever ridiculed him, nor regarded him with pity, scorn, or disappointment. Well, possibly disappointment. He could live with that.
Going through her things, they came upon a note.
It said: I’d kill for a cigarette, or half an hour of sleep.
The primary function of memory is to fuck with your head.
The more complex the organism, the more putrescent in decay. Also, the more difficult to love.
With age you become invisible to increasing portions of the population; in compensation, you begin to see them more clearly.
You spy your father at the Whole Foods, sitting on a lawn chair under a tree. When you ride by hours later, he is still there, chatting with the parking lot attendant. A regular. When did he become the old guy in the baseball cap, talking to anyone who will listen? And what did you think he did with his days?
Not lonely, after all. Brave.
When someone says, ‘People either love me or they hate me,’ it’s usually the latter.
