It was like a dream in the way that dreams often proceed according to some unassailable logic which then vanishes on waking, so that all you're left with is an intense but inexplicable mishmash.
The officer who came was the puppet. He said that he felt bad for the family, who were terribly upset about their missing boy.
It was then that my father came up with the idea to replace my grandmother with an inflatable doll.
This particular helicopter had no awareness of being turned on, of his propellers spinning, of rising through the air and flying over the city.
Although Seymour was lovingly made, his manufacturer had no way of knowing he would be suffocated all night, nearly every night, for thirty-three years.
It's all a collection of artfully arranged blanks.
What finally wakes me is the way she's shaking.
I sometimes think it all still lives in me.
For some time now, they've been still. It's as though they're thinking.
I sense she needs an audience for her anguish.
People say it's different when the child is yours. But if what this isn't true in my case?
What she is, is perfect, a version of K without any of the things that drive me crazy about her.
One day, when I lose what little memory I have, I will believe I made up everything, only I won't be able to remember any of it.
If you die, will I get another dada who talks just like you, and does things just like you?
Most people do not understand ASSHOLES and try to keep away from them.
He spent most of his time at candy conferences looking for other candy to have sex with.
The ghost of my father keeps leaving me post-its.
In the kitchen Teresa was making tuna fish sandwiches. She wasn't the same Teresa she had been just a short time earlier. She will never be that Teresa again.
He says he can't heal because he can't feel time.
The interesting part was coming home in a state of shock and noticing what that was like, how mixed up my thoughts were.
You can have any woman in the world you want, but you have to decide in the next sixty seconds and the decision is permanent.
Songs I love I devour.
While peeing I repeated a little mantra to myself: "Generosity of spirit. Generosity of spirit. Generosity of spirit."
At one point, head spinning, I went off in search of fireflies.
While having sex we would sometimes say we loved each other, but that was different because we were having sex.
I didn't say this at the time, but I totally respected her logic and in fact this may be why I kissed her.
Went to a party tonight. Got drunk. Danced. Left a note in a woman's shoe.
Now they're in their car – an unpleasant place to be. He's about to drive over the cliff. Off they go.
I haven't forgotten that tenderness and don't think I ever can or will.
Alone is two syllables. Equator is three. I can't get my fucking keyboard tray to work is eleven.
What if you suddenly see that you were mistaken, that in all this time of wishing, you never understood what you were wishing for?
When you turn it around it seems impossible, the convergences and synchronicities necessary to make it happen.
Her voice echoed the way voices echo in restrooms.
That is where I will kiss you.
Remind everyone how much I loved them. Exaggerate if necessary, but make it believable.
A man in the future remembers a woman he saw as a child, before the outbreak of World War III when the human race was forced to live underground.
Occasionally she stamps her foot, the left one, hard.
When pressed to defend my actions, I invariably resort to the four-point approach listed above, which I have just now dubbed the four horsemen of justification.
I ran into my grandfather last week in the pool hall at Mott and Houston. My grandfather's been dead over a decade now.
The voice is always the same: a kind of a barely controlled rage.
I was particularly proud of her breasts, one of which was slightly larger than the other, just like with non-snow women.
Somehow the vibe shifted from hey-let's-keep-this-going to hey-let's-just-get-this-over-with, and I don't know why. Worse, I sense she doesn't know either.
All I can see is the bottom half of her legs and the top part of her left knee. Also, vaguely, some thigh.
Back in 1999, Jaron Lanier proposed a revolutionary vehicle for archival storage: cockroaches.
I recognize him immediately. He's the guy who drives like he's playing a video game, weaving between lanes at ninety miles an hour.
One can always claim that luck either is or is not on one's side. Andy's death is a case in point.
My heart went out to Gail who had nothing to do but wait while Dean mocked Kate Winslet's breasts and sold his kitchen to Bev.
I can't be getting a collect call from Michael Barrish, because I am Michael Barrish.
I've lived in exactly forty-two forty-four houses and apartments.
Sadly, Odell Barnes, Jr. of Wichita County, executed March 1, 2000, never received his final meal.
There's something to be said for loving something to the point of destroying it a little.
The real problem was where to leave the note so that it would be found by the woman rather than her possible boyfriend.
I ran to the car, tore off part of a paper bag, and frantically scribbled a note on it.
How could I have failed to see something that, once you see it, cannot be unseen?
Each week she sat there, alone, eating her cantaloupe. It was heartbreaking.
Most serial killers are sane.
Dot knew what mortality was, she knew that Al was mortal, but she could not complete the syllogism.