Hotel rooms are funny things. They make everything look different. If people have to sleep with each other, sexually or platonically, they should do it in kitchens. The kitchen is the epicenter of tru...
He was addicted to meand now he has gone cold turkey. He used to send me fifty texts a day. And now he is ignoring me. It's like I was once his Barack Obama. And now I am John McCain, conceding defeat...
I think that's such a beautiful sentiment. Love should only last as long as a very expensive and impractical bikini that looks stunning, but dissolves in the sea within days. So many pop songs tell of...
I finally accept that not only do I not understand the death of my relationship, but I do not need to. These men were good and kind to me, they loved me and I loved them back and the shock at the fini...
Are you mine?Yes.Are you mine?Yes.Are you mine?No.No?No. I loved being yours. But now I’m mine, which is all I ever was, in the end.
Now here I am, seventeen with a bullet.
In the grip of madness, materialism begins to look like an admirable belief system.
You’re like Marilyn Monroe,’ Ken tells me, which I take as a compliment and say a nervous Thank You. Interrupting, he adds, ‘You’re all velvet and Velcro. Men want you because you’re sexy and broken a...
We all perform. It's what we do for each other all the time, deliberately or unintentionally. It's a way of telling about ourselves in the hope of being recognized as what we'd like to be.
People can only do what they can do.
He says he thanks every star the we existed on the same clestial plain. But here we are on earth, dirty, well used, a man made throughaway for intersecting dreams.
At the exit, they sell home-made soap with the evil eye attached, to protect yourself from people who'd wish you ill. I buy one, wondering, How do you hang it inside yourself?
And if you don’t know who you are, or if your real self has drifted away from you with the undertow, madness at least gives you an identity.
I win, and we discover that when men peer into a car that is blasting True Faith on the outskirts of San Franscisco, they are disappointed to see three women.
The sadness the general sadness that squats and pees inside my brain isn't over. It never will be. I know how best to chase it away, though. It usually works. Sometimes it doesn't. But I pray and sa...