Maybe we could all take care of each other, I dreamed.
Sophie knew about power animals,everyone did…Sophie thought she might be a cat, she liked cats a lot.
She was just so sad. Her whole face hung with it, like sadness was her personal gravity.
I was so sad that day. My heart was trying to climb from my body.
Did anyone think this canon of druggie men were out of control? Only in the most admirable of ways! Out of control like a shaman or a space explorer, like a magician sawing himself in half. Out of control like a poet.
It smelled of oily flowers, like the worn pillowcases of long-ago lovers.
I wanted her so badly, my heart hung out of my chest like some hound-dog’s tongue, pant, pant.
Michelle felt that if people didn’t like the way they looked in her book then they should have behaved differently.
Michelle had great admiration for criminals and crime, though only from a distance.
She broke my heart, so now I have to write about her forever. It made everything different. It’s something that can only happen once.
This is growing up, having to stomp out love, this is how people turn terrible.
Our lives make awesome stories, especially if you don’t get too attached to the thread of your own narrative.
The world was fucked up. It was hard to say how exactly, but we could feel it. There was injustice, lots of it, we saw it as a dull shape coming into focus.