It is a do-it-yourself era: health care, real estate, police investigation. Go online and fucking figure it out for yourself because everyone’s overworked and understaffed.
It embarrassed me. Marrow-deep embarrassment, the kind that becomes part of your DNA, that changes you.
Ironic people always dissolve when confronted with earnestness, it’s their kryptonite. Dorothy
Insomniacs are exquisitely grateful for people to recognize their weariness.
In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.
Imagine the righteous dismay when Ann arrived. She got slapped with some family name—didn’t even get the extra e to ornament it a bit.
If ifs and buts were candies and nuts we’d all have a very Merry Christmas, I heard my aunt Diane boom in my head. Those words had been the bane of my childhood, a constant reminder that nothing turne...
I would rather be a librarian, but I worry about the job security. Books may be temporary; dicks are forever.
I was never really on my side in any argument. I liked the Old Testament spitefulness of the phrase got what she deserved.
I was lying in bed thinking about killing myself, a hobby of mine. Indulgent afternoon daydreaming: A shotgun, my mouth, a bang and my head jerking once, twice, blood on the wall. Spatter, splatter.
I was a callow boy, and then a man, good and bad. Now at last I’m the hero. I am the one to root for in the never-ending war story of our marriage.
I took a cue from your beloved Mark Twain: What ought to be done to the man who invented the celebrating of anniversaries? Mere killing would be too light.
I thought we would be the most perfect union: the happiest couple around. Not that love is a competition. But I don’t understand the point of being together if you’re not the happiest.
I think if you had a dick, all sorts of bad things would happen.
I sometimes leave out details like that. It's more convenient for me. In truth, I wanted her to read my mind so I didn't have to stoop to the womanly art of articulation.
I should add, in Amy’s defense, that she’d asked me twice if I wanted to talk, if I was sure I wanted to do this. I sometimes leave out details like that. It’s more convenient for me. In truth, I want...
I sat in a room the color of egg yolk for two hours while the officer got my story down. The whole time I was thinking about Natalie going to autopsy, and how I would like to sneak in and put a fresh...
I remained mostly silent. I was thinking my own questions, the same questions I’d thought for years, the ominous refrain of our marriage: What are you thinking, Amy? How are you feeling? Who are you?...
I mean, if I were a guy, looking to pay a girl to wankme off, I wouldn’t walk in the room and say, My God, I smell hints of fresh strudel and nutmeg…quick, grab my dick!
I mean, doesn’t it seem like it could have been two people? Somehow? Michelle’s murder was just—Your mom and Debby were like, uh, hunted down almost. But Michelle dies in her bed, covers pulled up. Th...