The flimsy self regard of aging professionals defending their worth in the marketplace.
Look at you, still believing in your shit.
I still see them from time to time, taking their daily walk. How I’d hoped for that for us.
Your search—iceberg + ronson lighter + beefheart—did not match any documents.
As his senses aged and became less acute, they also became less convincing.
His last words were, does fish sauce go in the refrigerator, but she didn’t hear them. She was in the shower.
To feel the beauty in all of existence, but not in oneself.
A season of grey drizzle, jet fuel, burnt coffee, lavatory disinfectant. Looking back, it all seems rather exotic. I miss it. I’m so tired. So sad. So angry. If we met now, I wonder if you’d know me.
The evenings are black and the mornings cold and grey. The only way forward is through it.
What differentiates man from animal: vulgarity.
I know you by your habits; the grooves you have cut in the world; the familiar boredoms I would miss beyond all else.
The solipsistic awfulness of the selfie gaze,
as perceived by its intended recipients.
Addiction—the one thing you can count on.
Love of jargon, inversely proportional to love of truth.
As he spoke, her expression passed through every shade of sadness, distaste, anger, disappointment, irritation, contempt, pity, dismissal. Somewhere along the way he’d lost her respect, if he’d ever had it, and couldn’t find his way back.
Each sleepless night between the hours of 2 and 5 you traverse a vast region where your failings are laid bare under the moon’s implacable light.
20 years on, he didn’t know whether he should break down sobbing or smother her with a pillow. Probably both. He felt that way about most of his patients and it had worn him down. He was drinking too much, losing sleep and had developed a pronounced limp. Physician, destroy thyself.
