her car pulled up outside tires crunching through snow piled on the roadside 30 hours of planes and airports confusion and mislaid planning and foolish dreams of dreams and dashed dreams all for a lady who parks with tenacity like this: car angled between the road and the plowed snow the determination in her explosions [...]
just give up now the missing chopstick will never be found though you might search through all the hells for it the hell of burning oil the hell of flayed skin the hell of suicides gnarled wooden prisons in mockery of life the pitch soup of corrupt magistrates, after all try all the usual ones [...]
when all is said and done nothing is done right and nothing is said right near misses. pointless unless the only point is that they’re the same as the last and the first and the in betweens and unless it’s that you’re almost a standing ape again with looking ahead eyes eyes almost far off. [...]
we can’t all get on together one always craves more than the next people in power want only more power they sell peace and prosperity for another taste of it. people with the upper hand want another hand and a foot up there too. there are streets of square faces shuffling square minds. blank. oblivious. [...]
was I conscious was I the collective unconscious a mind paddling in dream land a mind drifting between worlds a mind trapped in it’s cinema I have always had this thing. from sleep I snap awake as people think of me. open my eyes just after someone mails. get warm shudders from distant happy thoughts, [...]
is there anything more precious than silent looks between strangers that you can’t understand except to understand that they at least get the full story. communication without the confusion of language is the most pure. that two people in this isolation of only self, self and self can break free and connect across the gulf. [...]
dracula is dead what a blow. he knew what life was all about. died first then came back alive but unalive to feast on life. dracula is dead he had the answers, he’d been around for a long time. experience counts for a lot. for one: could anything be more succulent than beautiful peasant girls. [...]
it was all about the stairs to her flat. i’d find a car park and climb them. there were just enough of them to be excited by the time you reached the top. i was usually well dressed always fearless, feeling together. a force of nature. first the stairs off the street, past the mailbox [...]
this it how it would work. at the train station we would swap letters written the day before and carry them safe in our backpacks. her school wore green, she had a green bag. on the bus i would read her letter. writing a reply would start during class. one page then the other side [...]
the past of anyone is generally pointless it has already worked its magic. scars carved into our life’s skin digging up the family cat i loved at 7 – before i understood love would only reveal bones and rot and worms but when i cried on the stairs he would sit with me quietly a [...]