The joke is, we all have the same punchline.
The joke is, we all have the same punchline.
The problem in this case was you can't be a middle-aged virgin in America without something being wrong with you. People can't conceive of a virtue in someone else that they can't conceive in themselves. Instead of believing you're stronger, it's so much easier to imagine you're weaker.
A hotel, he told me, was a big house where a lot of people lived and ate and slept, but no one knew each other. He said that described most families in the outside world.
There are only patterns, patterns on top of patterns, patterns that affect other patterns. Patterns hidden by patterns. Patterns within patterns. If you watch close, history does nothing but repeat itself. What we call chaos is just patterns we haven't recognized. What we call random is just patterns we can't decipher. what we can't understand we call nonsense. What we can't read we call gibberish. There is no free will. There are no variables.
Because tanning and steroids are only a problem if you plan to live a long time.
These flowers will be rotten in a couple hours. Birds will crap on them. The smoke here will make them stink, and tomorrow a bulldozer will probably run over them, but for right now they are so beautiful.
Condoms ribbed for extrasensitivity. The last thing I need is extrasensitivity. Here are condoms lined with a topical anesthetic for prolonged action. What a paradox. You don't feel a thing, but you can fuck for hours. This seems to really miss the point. I want my whole life lined with a topical anesthetic.
This is passive-aggression in action.
Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice. Every time you don't crash your car, you re-enlist.
We drive west the rest of the night, away from where the sun will come up, trying to outrace it, trying not to see what it's going to show us when we get home.
Her voice makes me think of her mouth makes me think of her breath makes me think of her breasts.
We opened our hearts. Hear me, heal me, save me, believe me.
Here are the shadows left behind by a thousand moments, a thousand moods, of needs traced here on the wall by men who are gone. Here is the record of their being here.
What people forget is a journey to nowhere starts with a single step, too.
Honest is how I want to look. The truth doesn't glitter and shine.
What you forget when you're planning a hijack by yourself is somewhere along the line, you might need to neglect your hostages just long enough so you can use the bathroom.
If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear it, doesn't it just lie there and rot?
You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.
If I turn up suicided in the morning, it was murder.
Imagine how you'd feel if your whole life turned into a job you couldn't stand.
My whole life is about forgetting. It's my most valuable job skill.
Nobody wants to worship you if you have the same problems, the same bad breath and messy hair and hangnails, as a regular person. You have to be everything regular people arenÆt. Where they fail, you have to go all the way. Be what people are too afraid to be. Become whom they admire. People shopping for a messiah want quality. Nobody is going to follow a loser. When it comes to choosing a savior, they won't settle for just a human being.
Not that IÆm crazy or anything, I just want some proof that death isnÆt the end. Even if crazed zombies grabbed me in some dark hall one night, even if they tore me apart, at least that wouldnÆt be the absolute end. There would be some comfort in that.
Part of her doing suicide intervention is my caseworker has to mix me another gin and tonic.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories