But I am not insane. I simply hear the discordant music others cannot hear. And see events that others cannot see. And there’s nothing I can do to stop the circle of events or affect them—or even warn the players in them.
Back then, if Holy Shit passed my lips, the nuns would whack me on the backs of my legs with their 18” wooden rulers. But for some reason, saying Holy Crap was okay.
No one told you when you decided to become a parent, when you opened up your thighs and body and heart so you could create a tiny wrinkled newborn that tore her way out of you, that you would need to have this conversation.
Am I really so disgusting to you that you don't answer me ... But it's okay ... Someday you and I will become legends, and time will judge us. Then it will be too late to change anything. And now times are not easy. 'Exit the thought from the cloud' ... Who said so?
Holding my knapsack tight, the one I had packed with a few provisions for the inevitable chaos, I unzipped it and, from the fridge, filled it with the few pieces of fruit that had not gone moldy and a half-empty bottle of warm juice and some cookies.
Barbara returned home from work to find “Die Bitch!” painted in blood-red letters next to her front door. She called the police. Barbara was stroking Cora when two officers, a man and a woman both clean cut and tired, arrived twenty minutes later.
Everyone knew Jamie’s father was not just intelligent but kind, someone whose vast collection of former students made a daily practice of honoring him with their high moral standards and overall generosity. But something had happened to him:
I did as he suggested and the doctor reassured me: the bangs were not real. My brain was intact. He took my pulse and my blood pressure and declared them to be within acceptable limits. He said I had what he called Exploding Head Syndrome. He said it wasn’t serious.
He decided a molecule was the answer. He may have lived alone, but he was surrounded by molecules, molecules of all sorts, billions if not trillions, he assumed. Having an audience of one molecule, the right molecule, could surely help him focus his thoughts.
That night I vividly dreamt that the soft skin of the Gorgeous was wrapped around me, cocooning me in a heaven made only for me. Then it unwrapped itself and showed me the true world, with its demons and degenerates wielding clubs and advancing on us.
The governor was furious. Out of mind, out of temper furious. His law, though passed by the legislature, had been disobeyed. His orders, meant to be carried out to the letter, had failed of enforcement.
Deep underground in a cave on the outskirts of Sanford Florida filled with the most high quality crime fighting equipment, a slurpee machine and an X-Box hooked to a massive television dedicated to playing nothing but Call of Duty
So I said it straight: I’m a felon. And son of gun, she didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink, just kept on that smile, looked me straight in the eye, and told me as long as I hadn’t committed murder or a sex crime I was good to vote.
would he rise from the comfort of his couch, throw open the flap of his tent and start his day, his sword at the ready but with no pretext to wield it, what if it happened
When he grabbed my arm, I was halfway across the lot, that girl watching through the windows, like reality television was unfolding in front of her on the graveyard shift. Above the pumps, bugs hit the security lights, the swamp stretching away into darkness, interstate hum.
It wasn’t murder. The Book of Exodus, the same book that says, ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ also says, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’
He came home from school on the rez one day and found his parents dead. There had been a gun battle and there was a blood trail heading back to the oil rigs. He followed the trail and found three men wounded on the side of the road.
So a council was organized. And organizing the council took much time, much arguing and deliberation. So many personalities and ancient slights to consider. But eventually, through mediation and to be honest, a few bribes, the council assembled.
A drunk might go to sleep on a railway track. A gambler might be found floating in the river and rumors spread of unpaid debts to criminals. A man’s gun might accidentally go off while he was cleaning it.
I’d want to say, “Would you do me a favor, dad?” Then as a serious joke, follow with, “Would you shut the mother fuck up?” But whenever I’d ask if he’d do me a favor, he’d seemingly meltdown, then he’d say, “Anyting for you, my bacheh joon!”
Occasionally, as now, she considered strangling Horace, suspecting it’d be easy to do by virtue of his scrawny neck. Truly, he was on the Social Security same as her, and truth be told with her pension she did better than him anyway.
What if they knew about the lie?
What if they were in on the lie? Them. Mr. King. Ms. Shelley. Dr. Deaver. Daddy. The doctor.
And when she thought she couldn't lose another beat:
What if mommy lied to me?
And now for my demands. For beginners, I want a national holiday named after someone whose name begins with Z. And you’re going to build a monument in Washington just like George’s and Abraham’s and Thomas’ for that soon to be infamous Mr. Z.
Magic didn’t take orders. If someone pushed him for a show or a sermon, he’d say, “Lost it.” He sometimes acted like he was bored by the idea, but this was all part of Mag’s technique.
"We were a team of five. We were laying explosives. Around an enemy safe house. At night. In the dark in the middle of the night. We had all finished our tasks. Had retreated back to the edge of the woods. Except your grandfather. He wasn't quite done. Almost done."
Elon ransacked a closet and then reordered it. Elon disassembled a cupboard and then rebuilt it. Elon removed from the floor of his crowded garage every single shiny Jaguar and Lambo he could find, and many de mode fitness contraptions.
Why had we followed it? Instinct, I suppose. It sounded beautiful. There were very few beautiful things around in those days.
Maybe 25 years ago, Georgina escapes Mexico. She hires coyotes, people to smuggle her and a cousin out. The smugglers leave them in a desert. They have no water, no food. They tell them to walk towards the light, but it is entirely dark, with no light.
I know I don’t have to tell you this, but when somebody you love dies, you don’t get new memories of them. You’re stuck with the ones you’ve got, unless somebody comes around and gives you a new one.
“We have to go.” Clinton puts a hand on my shoulder. “We have to remember Peri. We have to remember everyone who’s died because of this godforsaken city.” When I don’t move, he squeezes my shoulder, hard.
There is no such thing in contemporary high art as a slut or whore, no ethnic slurs, no sexual identity or sexual proclivity putdowns, no judgment with respect to your life choices, at least not in public.
It said: DoN’T forgEt TO put ThE SeAt dOWn. I assume it was referring to the toilet seat. But I’m a guy, and I live alone. Why should I put the seat down? Who would leave me such a note?
“These are just in case the End Times come before they’re scheduled.” He made no secret of his intention. “Or in case the November election goes bad and the race war begins. It’s best to be prepared.”
I ran into Jimmy Grant after he got out of prison, about a week before he went over the bank into the river. He seemed kind of shy, you know, ashamed to see me again or something.
I write magical runes on the ice and poetry for humpbacks, which animate my tattoos, and create a restroom for celestial beings trying to get a heat in their bones.
“...and upwards of 10,000 have died in a Goliath attack in Chicago. Exact numbers will be posted soon, as--” The newscaster put her hand to her ear. “This just in! Famous star, Jordan Culler, was recently convicted of peddling drugs across the border, and…”
now that he was crisply re-figured at a bus stop on the same gravel shoulder, now that he had earned the insignia, wore the uniform of red and gold, a gold peaked cap over still tangled hair, now that he was raised
She holds up plastic-wrapped wax lips, like the priest with communion, and places them in your bag. “To make you beautiful,” she says. You race home, fish the lips out from the boxes of Good & Plenty, rolls of Smarties, bags of Kisses, and rush to the bathroom.
These operatives always speak in a complex code of associational lines speaking obliquely and beside the point... it is up to the inspectors to move in and make a definitive arrest...
I had been staring into the spiraling black hole of my drink, thinking about plunging inward, being torn apart by some unfathomable, gravitational blender, scattering my molecules like countless coffee grinds sprinkled into a mid-flush toilet.