El olor a castañas asadas se mezcla con el anhídrido carbónico de los escapes.
Don’t tell me he was another serial killer, Bateman. Not another serial killer. No, McDufus, he wasn’t a serial killer,
Do you wear a diaphragm everywhere you go?' I want to scream, but stop myself because the idea really excites me.
Disintegration---I'm taking it in stride.
Disappear here.
Descansado, he tells me. What does that mean? Descansado, Rip says. It means 'take it easy,' he whispers, clutching the child next to him. Yeah? It means relax.
Cada día hay todo un ejército de retrasadas impacientes por ser deshonradas.
But most of us now lead lives on social media that are more performance based than we ever could have imagined even a decade ago, and thanks to this burgeoning cult of likability, in a sense, we’ve al...
Before I leave, the Eurotrash girl tells me she likes my gazelleskin wallet. I tell her I would like to tit-fuck her and then maybe cut her arms off, but the music, George Michael singing Faith, is to...
As the film historian and critic David Thomson has asked: What are movies without male lust?
As a writer you slant all evidence in favor of the conclusions you want to produce and you rarely tilt in favor of the truth. ...This is what a writer does: his life is a maelstrom of lying. Embellish...
And, Price adds, smiling, if another round of Bellinis comes within a twenty-foot radius of our table we are going to set the maitre d' on fire. So you know, warn him.
And later when we got into the car, he took a turn down a street that I was pretty sure was a dead end. Where are we going? I asked. I don't know he said just driving. But this road doesn't go anywher...
And later my macabre joy sours and I’m weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing I just want to be loved, cursing the earth and everything I have been taught:
And by the way, did anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like Garfield but run over and skinned and then someone threw an ugly Ferragamo sweater over you before they rushed you to the vet? Fusil...
Adjust my dreams for me.
A young girl, a freshman, I met in a bar in Cambridge my junior year at Harvard told me early one fall that Life is full of endless possibilities. I tried valiantly nog to choke on the beer nuts I was...
Where there was nature and earth, life and water, I saw a desert landscape that was unending, resembling some sort of crater, so devoid of reason and light and spirit that the mind could not grasp it...
And before I can stop it I find myself almost dazzled and moved that I might have the capacity to accept, though not return, her love.
Her taste in music haunted my memory and I had to stop at Tower Records on the Upper West Side to buy ninety dollars' worth of rap CDs but, as expected, I'm at a loss: [...] voices uttering ugly words...