He’d been waiting for a long time to hit bottom—apparently you get a small bounce at the end.
The people around him were often depressed. He was a “carrier.”
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.
1) artworks you have ruined with personal associations:
Coercive language that engenders unconscious resistance, for instance, employing the word “usually” instead of “often.”
Years ago you took a bullet to the brain—it just took this long to realize it. In 25 more you will hit the ground.
, the fictional character at the center of this non-fictional memoir,
In the dream a doctor told me I was going blind. I ran out into the street, just seeing.
In total, these pictures represent three seconds of my life. Maybe some day you’ll find them. My three seconds. My last will and testament.
When I mentioned that even in the absence of an actual box, you could draw a box on the floor and your cat would sit in it, she burst into tears. I can’t stand it she said. That’s too sad. I don’t think that’s sad at all, I said. I think it’s miraculous.
The beauty in loss.
I think I can safely say, with great pleasure, your best days are well behind you.
