She thought too that women didn't know what to do with themselves these days which could turn them into harridans. Hardly a female friend she knew wasn't miserable. Either mind dumb with children, or in the married condition married to an earnest toi...
But that’s what family is, isn't it? It’s traditions and trinkets that only matter when we hold them up against the mirrors of our lives, lending them meaning, lending them weight, until they become heavy enough to endure without us. We create th...
Sometimes you wish to escape to another part of the book. You stop reading and riffle the pages, catching sight of the story as it races ahead, not above the world but through it, through forests and complications, the chaos of intentions and cities....
A lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we're married to him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled by our imagination, ...
At the age of four, I wanted to be eight. At the age of eight, I wanted to be 16. At the age of 16, when I started driving, I wanted to be a Ferrari. And now, at the age of middle, I want to be Stalin’s mustache and matching armpit hair. But only f...
Being alive means living fully extended. Like Orafoura’s cousin, who is 2.5 inches tall, but has a five-inch penis. You can’t say that’s average, because how many people do you know whose penis is twice as long as they are?
Love is something to be treated with awe. Or should it be aww? People don’t know my capacity for love. If you tried to bottle it up, I’m sure it would take at least three thermoses to contain it. And if it did get contained, would you drink my lo...
No matter how hard you try looking for love, Orafoura once told me, the last place you’ll find it is in another man’s ass. But that may not be true, because the last time I lost my boxing gloves, that’s exactly where I found them.
I remember the first time I fogged up your astronaut’s helmet. That night we made space like outer love. But I kept it cool like Coors Light in the fridge, even though I felt heavy and cramped in your chilled kitchen appliance.
You don’t love me!” Agatha shouted. When she said that, I said I couldn’t agree more. Of course I completely disagreed with her, and that is why I simply could not agree more. It took all my effort to agree to the degree that it took to even be...
When those lips engulfed my head, I said to myself later, ‘nothing else will ever touch this scalp again’. I couldn’t help it, though. I lathered sunscreen on it unthinkingly the next day before I went out. But it was the first time in the subu...
I have alchemised my love for Agatha, and turned it into gold, which is the embodiment of Orafoura. I am the Elixir of Love--hot, cold, dry, and moist, I am the quintessential element: Jell-O. Agatha makes me yummy like John Wayne rides horse radish.
Agatha had rose-colored cheeks, and thorn-like warts all over her slender neck. When we’d make love, I’d pretend I was Helen Keller and her neck was the Book of Love. I like to think I wrote that book, but I didn’t. Orafoura did.
Do you remember our first kiss? I do. Not a day goes by I don’t think of the feel of that bicuspid against my tongue. It had such a distinctive feel, neither cuspid nor molar…but I’m not sure it knew that – that was what endeared it to me so....
We made up, and I knew just how to do that. I told her, “I feel like dancing. Let me grab my dancing shoes and stick-on mustache (better to tickle your vagina with).” And she replied, “My vagina already has its own mustache.
Vanilla has become too genericized. It’s become standard, which is good. Vanilla is a household name. But the same standardization that’s made it so popular has taken the novelty out of it. Being the vanguard of ice cream has vanquished its radic...
I am Oscar Wilde’s reversible underwear. I am John Wayne’s rusty six-shooter. I am William Shakespeare’s identity crisis. I am a kiss delivered Priority Mail, to a girl named Agatha, by me dressed as a mailman.
Freud was a fraud, but he’d probably think I have a complex of some kind. Anal, oral, Orafoural, etc. While most kids wanted to grow up to be an astronaut, one of Barbara Streisand’s bras, a priest in sheep’s clothing, or an IRS employee, I alw...
You know, if a waitress asks me if I want ketchup with my fries, I’ll reply, “No thanks, I’ll just drink water.” And that’s not just a statement about table etiquette; it’s a personal quote that accurately reflects my moral and philosophi...
The pockmarked and chalk-white sidewalk was like the surface of the moon, and I felt like Neil Armstrong as I walked along in my space boots and white helmet with my visor flipped down. Of course in zero gravity, Neil probably had a more impressive e...
I can’t write anymore. My words are paper airplanes tenuously gliding towards the dust. The wonder of the Phoenicians, which throughout the latter part of this entry I have not fully comprehended, is getting vaguer still. Where did this feather in ...
