The hardest thing to forgive in myself, the thing that has taken the most time, the most unhemming and restitching, has been the unmitigated display of a clawing attempt at self-preservation through self-violence, through doubt. My biggest regret and the motivating factor behind my former, though not far removed, sleepless nights and lifeless days ( Read more... )

      “When the storm had passed I still had the feeling I was not alone in the house. My only explanation is that just as real events are forgotten, some that never were can be in our memories as if they happened. For if I evoked the emergency of the rain-storm, I did not see myself alone in the house but always accompanied by Delgadina. I had ( Read more... )

I think it might be okay.

I am fucking terrified.

She fell asleep on the floor, on the old stained carpet of an empty apartment on the west side of town. The wind ripped through the hole in the glass, whistled through the window and bounded past the bedroom door, broken locks and all, like a sauced former lover two days after the divorce is settled. He whipped through the room and caressed her ( Read more... )

If I were allowed only one line for you, it would be this one:

You will always find what you are looking for.

I want so badly to believe that there is truth, that love is real. And I want life in every word the the extent that it's absurd.

I know you're wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear that your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

(yes.)

OH MY GOD I WANT TO BLOW UP FUCK

When you tire of all the bright lights ( Read more... )

Everytime I read a Hemingway biography or JM Barrie, or watch a film about some lone artist in a house on the hill somewhere, or when I think of Tim Burton and David Lynch, I always think of them alone and I think, pretty fittingly, "so this is how I go ( Read more... )