I sit, tired of reading. I am sick of books. I can't tell where I leave off and the books begin. I'm nobody. I'm a polluted nothing. A confessed sin, an open door, the clutterer in the clutter.
Most people seem to turn off at some point in their lives. Maybe it's thirty or forty. For most people it's lots younger. They stop there. Stop growing or changing or learning or something. From that...
It is coincidence, I decide, and I am getting old and batty, thinking the universe revolves around me.
When your mama was the geek, my dreamlets, Papa would say, she made the nipping off of noggins such a crystal mystery that the hens themselves yearned toward her, waltzing around her, hypnotized with...
I am here, come closer, the old donkey said with her eyes. I will mother you.
'The Iliad' includes some snappy sports reporting, and writers ever since have been probing athletes for signifiers, for metaphor amped by grit under pressure.
I get glimpses of the horror of normalcy. Each of these innocents on the street is engulfed by a terror of their own ordinariness. They would do anything to be unique.
In the United States, female fisticuffs were marginalized, first as erotic vaudeville in the 19th century and later as serious competition developed in the first half of the 20th. Legal wars waged by...
I'm like every waitress in every diner I'm like every mom driving her kids to school. I'm nothing special at all.
Like colors or a spring tree against that kind ofblue sky that pulls your heart out through your eyes. Pretty things will swarm you like that, like your heart was a hive of electric bees.
Can you be happy with the movies, and the ads, and the clothes in the stores, and the doctors, and the eyes as you walk down the street all telling you there is something wrong with you? No. You canno...
Prior to penicillin and medical research, death was an everyday occurrence. It was intimate.
The top head would have controlled everything and made his poor little butt-brother miserable.
The truth is always an insult or a joke, lies are generally tastier. We love them. The nature of lies is to please. Truth has no concern for anyone's comfort
We came to Portland because there was a good alternative public school. Friends who lived there told me about it, and my son loved it. I left his dad and went to work slinging hash in a breakfast dine...
I knew what he felt. The huge buoyant air sack of love that filled his body had just exploded and the collapse was devastating.
Dear daughter, I won't try to call my feeling for Arty love. Call it focus. My focus on Art was an ailment, noncommunicable, and, even to me all these years later, incomprehensible. Now I despise myse...
The more people we exclude, the more people will want to join. That’s what exclusive means.
Grownups can deal with scraped knees, dropped ice-cream cones, and lost dollies, but if they suspected the real reasons we cry they would fling us out of their arms in horrified revulsion. Yet we are...
– Мама, Элли больше нет. Ифи изменилась. Все изменилось. Это варенье из ежевики, готовка обедов на всю семью, которая давно уже не собирается за одним столом, торты на дни рождения Арти… Зачем это, ма...
