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You're waiting for me to speak to old facts.

I have 2 teenagers myself.
I try to disregard them as much as possible.
Text me when you’re 30.

When I was 9 years old, I was a creative kid.
Burning Hot Wheels in the backyard with my friend.
I was lucky to have a mother who believed in The Plan.

The moral and ethical implications of Larry's character

1.

They don't need the pills; they don't need the stuff.
You get 4 hour erections? I don't.
A ridiculous thing.
So awful to everybody.
I must've taken a nap during your part.

Something more important than the money--
really hurting somebody--
shows they really loved each other.
How could he not know she got implants?


2.

I grew up in the Bible Belt.
I don't even know a good cuss word.
Well, now that I'm married I know a few.
I once performed in a Synagogue,
and I died a death.


3.

We're in the anti-chamber.
My mother is in the next room,
laid out,
very gorgeous
like they always are after they die.
You have a career, you have a boyfriend,
and now you have a dead mother.
Hates his mother.
That would be considered the don't
except I laughed.
Don't try to out-do the family's grief.


4.

We don't just believe in God,
we believe in everything.
Vampires. Leprechauns. Big Foot.
The Exorcist is a documentary.
That happened to your auntie.


5.

We look like the last two minutes of It's a Small World.

I could tell you something to make this ok, to take away the oh-fuck-what-have-I-done. There are little worlds, like bubbles in honey, sweet and nostalgic amber. You can never reach those. They'll crystallize and lose their urgency, like photos of people I just had to take, just had to document their souls somehow tangibly. They crystallize; now I can't remember their names.

Chasing after a firetruck during the first torrential downpour of the season I thought,

this isn't my life wake up wake up wake up.

I can never reach that.

I know a guy who likes firetrucks; he's far away, like things I've never finished. Little worlds like honey. He told me you can cut anything apart. There's nothing in me to cut, but

when I sleep I feel I could wake up in a thousand pieces.

He's somewhere in the woods, and I'm in the city not wanting to be in the city anymore. Someday our paths will diverge, and I'll be left with all his old beer caps. We'll be stuck in thick amber no longer breathing.

I said my bones are splintering driftwood,

you said, no stop that's not true.

where were you where were you where was i