There are some smells, like fates, you cannot escape.
I can look away so long that I forget I am looking away.
Some women have marimba laughter.
Sometimes I just know, no matter what you said, that I was right.
It isn’t always necessary or helpful to think about things I’ve done.
You can be too sad to put the car key in the ignition of your car.
It’s not the not knowing, it’s not even the wanting to ask, it’s the hating the needing to ask
If you want to get attention, take off your shoes.
The sight of rain-flattened prairie grasses compares to any Japanese rock garden.
When they ask the errant shamefaced politician “What were you thinking of?!” I always want to say the answer for them, the one they’d answer if only they could remember how to talk: “I was in direct pursuit of fundamentally human desires.”
Fear of what they must think is the worst reason not to do something.
Popsicle stick sculptures lit on fire do not seem like art to me, but I’m open to meeting the person who might change this perspective
Sometimes I awake, aloft. Other times I have to crawl up from the cellar.
I heard someone tell this dream: “I am the only survivor, strapped into my seat on a plane that has crashed, a plane that carried every person who has ever meant anything to me.”
I heard someone say, on a corner, I am a cheap Messiah. I turned to look but no one looked especially cheap unless you count the sex worker in the leopard print shoes (who looked absolutely awesome).
I heard these two sentences on different days, from different people, and my mind keeps trying to hook them together, like an engine to a caboose, and make sense of them, or maybe even a whole universe: Maybe the neurologist was right, but I don’t know if I can wait for the autopsy to find out.