Anyone wishing to communicate with Americans should do so by e-mail, which has been specially invented for the purpose, involving neither physical proximity nor speech.
I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.
Music? Music is life! It’s physical emotion - you can touch it! It’s neon ecto-energy sucked out of spirits and switched into sound waves for your ears to swallow. Are you telling me, what, that it’s boring? You don’t have time for it?
I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.
I wish people were willing to dig a little deeper than the surface elements of a premise before tossing one story in with another.
I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.
It is my baby and if I want to bring it out to play again, I will.
The Washington Post is quickly trying to become the safe space for Donald Trump deniers, for the Trump-won-the-election deniers. I think the Washington Post is establishing itself as the safe space for anti-Trump delicate snowflakes to go.
I'm able to leave Don Draper at work. I'm quite dissimilar from him in real life
You need me, just whistle," he said as he arranged his ball cap over his eyes against the sun leaking through the frost-emptied branches. "You're not coming?" Lifting the brim of his cap, he eyed me, "You want me to?" he asked blandly. "Not really, no. " He dropped the brim and laced his hands over his middle. "Then why are you bitching? It's a crime scene, not a grocery store.