My note of condolence marked the beginning of the end of our friendship. Evidently grief over the loss of a cat doesn’t yield a permissible amount of insight into the the death of someone’s parent.

 She was rich in spirit, but mainly just rich.

Other people presented an unflattering mirror.

When does “verge of collapse” become actual collapse?

The one thing you have in common:
desperation.

We are required to assume the psychological burdens of our economic benefactors.

You’ve found the perfect pair of glasses,
but you still feel like an asshole.

Received a lovely message from T. yesterday. “Dear Michael, thank you for this thoughtful note. I admire your work, and it’s nice to hear from you.” Had to wonder, though, who is Michael?

He drove past the old house on the way to the liquor store. The familiar bay window above the porch, where she used to sit waiting when he came home. Halfway down the block he had to pull over. He couldn’t go forward, and he couldn’t go back.

No idea
Who the fuck knows
It’s anyone’s guess
Fuck if I know