Most sows are repeatedly inseminated, brood after brood, till their bodies give way and they go to slaughter. But while they’re still useful, they’re made to nurse—strapped to their sides in a farrowi...
My eyes flipped open at exactly six A.M. This was no avian fluttering of the lashes, no gentle blink toward consciousness. The awakening was mechanical. A spooky ventriloquist-dummy click of the lids:...
My penis lay pathetically along my left thigh, like some small animal washed ashore.
My wife was crazy. I was married to a crazy woman. It's every asshole's mantra: I married a psycho bitch. But I got a small, nasty bite of gratification: I really did marry a genuine, bona fide psycho...
Nick’s the kind of guy you can drink a beer with, the kind of guy who doesn’t mind if you puke in his car. Nick!
No one saves an e-mail, because it's so inherently impersonal. I worry about posterity in general. All the great love letters - from Simone de Beauvoir to Sartre, from Samuel Clemens to his wife, Oliv...
No soy un mentiroso del deslumbrante calibre de Amy, pero no se me da mal cuando es necesario.
No wedding ring. I wondered when I began to notice such things.
Oh, I guess people change sheets after they have sex. It made sense, but I’d never thought of it. I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.
People behaved mostly well and then they died.
Pero no lo dije en voz alta; a menudo no digo las cosas en voz alta, ni siquiera cuando debería. Contengo y compartimiento hasta un extremo preocupante: en el sótano de mi vientre hay cientos de botel...
Really, dude? How do you get through life without breaking something? Your mom wrap you in bubble wrap?
See, there I am. I told you I lived. I told you I was.
Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with...
That’s the way plants down here work: The Mexicans get the shittiest, most dangerous jobs, and the whites still complain.
The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore.
There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not...
This is Nick’s wife, Amy, who was born and raised in New York City. And her friends, plump and welcoming, immediately suffer some strange Tourettesian episode: They repeat the words—New York City!—wit...
Time to drop the illusion.
Today I like my first ladies with a little bite.
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