November 29, 2004

Dangerfield : Delay.

"Only reason I get any girls at all is because of who I am, a rapist."

Posted by dean at 05:44 PM

SALIV, Page 46.

Patients in a mental hospital can never figure out why people from the outside smile.

Posted by dean at 02:34 PM

November 23, 2004

SALIV, Page 39.

"That's the only real time; all the real events happen in the dream-time! The actions of the gods!"

Posted by dean at 11:55 AM

November 22, 2004

SALIV, Page 5.

He watched her go; it was amazing. Gloria, in her measured way, talked herself out of existence word by word.

Posted by dean at 01:46 PM

November 16, 2004

. . .

Posted by dean at 10:15 PM

November 08, 2004

Her Backpack Strap Came Off When She Walked Up To The Bookstore Rep And Punched Him In The Gut With A Bag Of Indian Food.

They'd flanked there for hours, with readable t-shirts, already across the street.

She watched him and his friends build wire-frame faces out of double-looped bedsprings and plastic sap, excited like children left in malls and raised by mannequins. The button under her finger promised greatness. Photograph grab! Faces building faces! Forever-look (maybe) of a camera filming its own television feed.

But the first of the witness-crowds was only a group of voices, which had been saying, "Stop it?" in a sort of repeat as others took to the sidewalk like a bulge. It was so shit and lo-fi. Heat came off a fat dog sitting on top a newspaper stack. In the middle of used shoes and bruised work-out suits, a marched line of poor kids stomped and waited, leashed together by a string of cassette tape. Somebody pointed their finger like Posh Spice.

He flinched when she grabbed the back of his head. When the wet came out, he started to turtle-thrash on the floor with people-noticing screams of help. It only took a couple of kicks to get his shock out to the middle of the street.

She smiled. And he didn't. Car blur. Done.

She'd wanted something big, some clever idea on a cold day, but went on in-between the gaps in the road, not noticing the loud sound of the bag against her back.

Posted by dean at 05:20 PM