May 2013
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Why am I despising you when I’m about to change your life?
– john le carré, THE CONSTANT GARDENER
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April 2013
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is reblogging the same as curating?
fuckyeahexistentialism:
Here are 30 seconds of my evening by the Mediterranean sea.
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“It’s 1988 now. Margaret Thatcher is entering her third term of office and talking confidently of an unbroken Conservative leadership well into the next century. My youngest daughter is seven and the tabloid press are circulating the idea of concentration camps for persons with AIDS. The new riot police wear black visors, as do their horses, and their vans have rotating video cameras mounted on...
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She never saw him crawling from her nose. One hand over the other, like a spelunker out of a new tract, easily enough, out he came. Not every night, and not always from her nose. She never saw him. But she believed in him. And that night, he only came out for no reason other than to look at the moon hanging out in space, through her open window, framed by the purple curtains her mother made her...
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It was an interesting combination in a man: intelligence and sheer bulk.
– ian mcewan, ATONEMENT
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March 2013
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i joke a lot about having an eating disorder. i don’t have one. when i started running last summer, i did try to eat better, but for me that simply means not fucking eating all the time (also, it meant being faux-vegetarian). i don’t care if you have an eating disorder, to be honest. but after years of that, i began to look at myself differently as i began losing weight because...
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i’m waiting for some great news from work. always with the waiting with work, hey? but that’s what happens when you work with a large enough company — bureaucracy. at the same time, my confidence level in work is pretty damn high. i really like my job. it’s been the first time since i began working that i’m thinking of retirement and such things. also, i’m...
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when i was out of town last month, i began texting with this young guy somewhere in the inland valley. and i mean text because he’s younger than me and that’s as close as people nowadays want to get. suits me just fine - i can’t with someone else, you know? when there’s distance, literal or otherwise, i’m golden. of course i think i’m so stupid; a pretty face...
February 2013
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when someone who isn’t the same background as me - same sexuality, same ethnicity, same class as me, same gender as me - goes on and on about how much he supports me and my perceived struggle, it makes me their fetish object. i am not a “cause.” and, really, just shut the fuck up.
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i never really wanted to be a writer or actor or something like that. i have had huge interest in it, but if i could go back and talk with my teenage self, i’d tell me i’m being an idiot. anyway… i don’t know why new york’s always been inside me - wanting to be there, at the very least visiting. and when i stepped out of jfk the first time i went (it was january,...
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over the past few years i’ve thought about what is going to happen when i die. and i don’t mean when i die as in the normal way, no. i think about what would happen if, for example, right now, when i walk to the corner store for a pack of smokes and a diet coke, if a car jumped the curb for whatever reason god decides and slammed into me and crushed me against the brick wall on my...
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You told her everything. I look at you and see it in your face. It’s the...
– don dellilo, POINT OMEGA
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i returned from seattle yesterday. one of the things that happened while there is i met a guy around my age and we fucked. because i stayed downtown and a flirt becomes something else real quick when you’re dealing with gay guys after they’re off work. fuck it: a generalization, but it’s pretty fucking true. i didn’t even get his name, but we exchanged dna. the last time...
January 2013
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It’s healthier to reject certain cautions than fall in line.
– don dellilo, POINT OMEGA
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It has occurred to me that there are months or years of my own life that were so...
– stephen beachy, WHO IS JT LEROY? THE TRUE IDENTITY OF A GREAT LITERARY HUSTLER, ny magazine, 2005
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I have to write an opening sentence.
– william gibson, when asked how he begins a novel. paris review, 2011 (link via) [i’m writing on a fucking kindle. fucking shoot me.]
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Instead, let me tell you what happens when you get booked after being arrested because you set off a fire alarm in a big downtown hotel in the middle of the night because you were drunk and high on your own prescribed meds, and also you broke things in the hallways of the hotel:
The short drive to One Police Plaza in the back of a police car, handcuffed, isn’t the worst of it. At least...
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Another thing that happened/will happen/is happening: At the job I have somewhere down the line (don’t ask) I meet a woman and she’s incredibly pretty. Impossibly, even. If you were so inclined, you could say she was beautiful, but you don’t know her, so you can’t make that call. (That’s one of the things that have always bothered me all my life, calling someone or...
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She gave me a fake smile. I soaked every ounce of it.
– dave eggers, QUIET, from the collection HOW WE ARE HUNGRY