It's finished. Everything went past, without me.
So this is it ⎯ what cost me all that time. A man who turned out to be old, a house that turned out to be empty.
...our familiar features rinsed in weird adulthood.
You can do it alone. But it's going to be so much harder.
Rebecca was an academic star. Her new book was on the phenomenon of word casings, a term she'd invented for words that no longer had meaning outside quotation marks. English was full of these empty words--"friend" and "real" and "story" and "change"-...
Sure, everything is ending," Jules said, "but not yet.
Too Clear, too clean. The problem was precision, perfection; the problem was "digitization" which sucked the life out of everything that got smeared through its microscopic mesh. Film, photography, music: dead. "An aesthetic holocaust!
The sky was electric blue above the trees but the yard felt dark. Stephanie went to the edge of the lawn and sat her forehead on her knees. The grass and soil were still warm from the day. She wanted to cry but she couldn't. The feeling was too deep.
This is the music business. 'Five years is five hundred years' - your words.
Das mine!' protested Ava, Bennie's daughter, affirming Alex's recent theory that language acquisition involved a phase of speaking German. She snatched a plastic skillet away from his own daughter, Cara-Ann, who lurched after it, roaring, 'Mine pot! ...
No one is waiting for me. In this story, I’m the girl no one is waiting for. Usually the girl is fat, but my problem is more rare, which is freckles: I look like someone threw handfuls of mud at my face.
You said you were a fairy princess You said you were a shooting star You said we'd go to Bora Bora Now look at where the fuck we are
Like all failed experiments, that one taught me something I didn’t expect: one key ingredient of so-called experience is the delusional faith that it is unique and special, that those included in it are privileged and those excluded from it are mis...
Time's a goon right? Isn't that the expression?
When does a fake Mohawk become a real Mohawk? Who decides? How do you know if it's happened?
Vinegar: that's what fear smells like.
Oh we'll know each other for forever' Bix said. 'The days of losing touch are almost gone.' 'What does that mean? ' Drew asks. 'We're going to meet again in a different place,' Bix said. 'Everyone we've lost, we'll find. Or they'll find us.
She was clean": no piercings, tattoos, or scarifications. All the kids were now. And who could blame them, Alex thought, after watching three generations of flaccid tattoos droop like moth-eaten upholstery over poorly stuffed biceps and saggy asses?
