We spend most of our lives holding on to objects, he thought, and finally they fall from our cold dead hands and those who tidy up after us have to worry of what to do with all this stuff.
We go in a skyscraper that's Paul's office, he says he's crazy busy but he makes a Xerox of my hands and buys me a candy bar out of the vending machine. Going down in the elevator pressing the buttons...
Today is one of the days when Ma is Gone.She won't wake up properly. She's here but not really. She stays in Bed with the pillows on her head.Silly Penis is standing up, I squish him down.I eat my hun...
She struggled to think of one day in more than fifteen years of life when instead of drifting along like a leaf on the river she’d simply grabbed what she wanted. The
Perhaps there is no providence, no fate, no grand plan, she thinks now. Perhaps we dig our own traps and lie down in them.
People have no idea of the things that don't happen to them—the lives they're not living, the deaths stalking them—and thank Christ for that. Hard enough to get through each day without glimpsing all...
Me acuerdo de ser educado, que es cuando la gente tiene miedo de que los otros se enfaden.
Is there a sense in which you miss being behind a locked door? Ma turns to Morris. Is she allowed to ask me such stupid questions? The
In the year 1752 it was announced that the second of September would be followed by the fourteenth. The matter was merely one of wording, of course; time in its substance was not to undergo any change...
I'd love to watch TV all the time, but it rots our brains. Before I came down from Heaven Ma left it on all day long and got turned into a zombie that's like a ghost but walks 'thump thump.' So now sh...
I watch his hands, they're lumpy but clever. Is there a word for adults when they aren't parents?Steppa laughs. Folks with other things to do?
I pray for John the Baptist and Baby Jesus to come around for a playdate with Dora and Boots.
I looked at my stepmother, and she stared back at me, and our eyes were like mirrors set opposite each other, making a corridor of reflections, infinitely hollow.
I heard a knocking in my skull, and kept running to the door, but there was never anyone there.
I don't watch the cartoon planet this morning, I choose a bit of a gardening and a fitness and a news, and everything I see I say, Ma, is that real? and she says yeah, except one bit about a movie wit...
Because your soul must be lonely. That silence you heard, when you tried to pray—that’s the sound of God listening.
You must have been tortured by the memory of everything Jack didn’t even know to want. Friends, school, grass, swimming, rides at the fair . . . Why does everyone go on about fairs? Ma’s voice is all...
You must feel an almost pathological need—understandably—to stand guard between your son and the world. Yeah, it’s called being a mother. Ma nearly snarls it.
Writing stories is my way of scratching that itch: my escape from the claustrophobia of individuality. It lets me, at least for a while, live more than one life, walk more than one path. Reading, of c...
We're standing on the deck that's all wooden like the deck of a ship. There's fuzz on it, little bundles. Grandma says it's some kind of pollen from a tree.Which one? I'm staring up at all the differe...