We both knew no bounds to our escapism.
I lit a cigarette. 'Go ahead, take a smoke,' my father said. 'It won't kill you. Only sadness will.
One day you look in the mirror and you see your parents' sadness in your eyes.
I have forgiven Sonora. I have forgiven New York, forsaken the recursion of history. But I do not yet know how to forgive myself.
I remember wanting to flee her, and being unable to flee her, so in need of her and half hating her for it, and I still am nauseous from it.
With this man I will never want. With this man I will never be sad again.
It was long past midnight. Laura's music played on. It was composed in the language of stars, tinkling in a crystal pool suspended from constellations. She used chimes now and then, the chimes that ch...
I understood it in my bones. Longing made the music bigger.
I faded out. I was for a moment my father tapping on his cigarette, the way he holds it, crushing it flat. I was my mother at the sink, staring into the desert from the kitchen window, dishes in hand....
I look out at the reservation, still and glittering with casinos, and think of all the death dried up and buried in its dirt.
There is the body of history ever atop of us, and the body of memory rustling within us. Between the two, we are crushed.
I knew beauty for me would only ever be derived from loss.
It was all so foolish then, as it is now, as it is forever. To be in love with beauty. To try to hold on to it.
I first understood why Christians prayed for a savior in the form of a beautiful man. He had absolved me of the blue-streaked blond.
With the years, we become even more ourselves and call this change.
When I returned to New York, it had already changed. I always wished things could just remain.
We are all cursed. We live in the era of the curse. A world that cannot be fixed. The best thing would be an alien ship. Another planet. One with three moons. But you, I saw you in my dreams. I saw yo...
I slowly lost any dream for myself. No one warned me of this, that the stars in New York can infect the light inside, that they can trap you in their shadow. Dylan was of course a star. He had achieve...
Nightmares always recur, but never our most beautiful dreams.
I inherited this longing. I was addicted to it. And so I was at home with those who wanted and never had enough. I was at home in the places that could never be. The places found only in dreams.
