I remember the afternoon, cloudy and quiet, and I remember, too, almost leaving myself, the person I was, the ordinary way I felt about things, my perception of - there’s no other word for it - the depth of life, and above all the thrill of successive lines.
Putting this story (and myself) to bed. The submitting fun begins tomorrow.
Roberto Bolaño’s Antwerp is the bestseller of our Memorial Day weekend so far, oddly enough....
Elaine: Wait up!
Jerry: You see? Never be late for a plane with a girl. ‘Cuz a girl runs like a...
Elaine: Bah bah baaah, Boo doo bah bah bah, boo doo waaaah, waah, waaaah…
Jerry: Hey, could you...
is it a small Moleskine? noooo, you ignorant fool…it’s my new iPhone case. it has…like…card slots...
Little Things by Raymond Carver
Early that day the...
by David Foster Wallace. An essay that is dear to my heart.
For...
“I’d like to go out in the front yard and shout something. “None of this is worth it!” That’s what...
I’ve crossed some kind of invisible line. I feel as if I’ve come to a place I never thought...
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