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You would not believe how much this suit cost. The mark-up is about a zillion percent. The suit jacket has a little peplum skirt and wide lapels and shoulders. The single-breasted cut is symmetrical except for the hole pumping out blood.
ennui.
Another thing is no matter how much you think you love somebody, you’ll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close.
Just remember, the same as a spectacular Vogue magazine, remember that no matter how close you follow the jumps: Continued on page whatever. No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn’t experience it all. There’s that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should’ve been paying attention.
rubrum
“And this…,” Brandy’s big ring-beaded hand curls up to touch Brandy’s torpedo breasts. “This…,” Brandy’s hand curls up to touch pearls at her throat. “This…,” the enormous hand lifts to touch the billowing piles of auburn hair. “And this…,” the hand touches thick moist lips. “This,” Brandy says, “is the Princess Brandy Alexander.”
Plumbago
georgette
hysteria is impossible without an audience. Panicking by yourself is the same as laughing alone in an empty room. You feel really silly.
“When you understand,” Brandy says, “that what you’re telling is just a story. It isn’t happening anymore. When you realize the story you’re telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan,” Brandy says, “then we’ll figure out who you’re going to be.”
“Sir?” the border guy says to Seth, formerly Alfa Romeo, formerly Chase Manhattan, formerly Nash Rambler, formerly Wells Fargo, formerly Eberhard Faber.
“Here, sweetie,” I’d say, and give her a little sponge, “blend.” And Evie would start to cry. Your every emotion goes right over the top with a big audience. It’s either laughter or tears, with no in-between. Those tigers in zoos, they must just live a big opera all the time.
guiche
ennui.
Estinyl
Androcur
Nembutals.
marabou.
Thorazine
Miss Rona.
spironolactone
Nebalino
To my breasts in the rearview mirror, Seth says, “The only reason why we ask other people how their weekend was is so we can tell them about our own weekend.”
Climara—and
Estrace,
frug
kiltie
When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?
Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known.
voile.”
lymphogranuloma.”
peignoir
Now, the only light is the inferno, a giant space heater smiling down on me, me deep fried in my eleven herbs and spices of singed chiffon.
The uglier the fashions, the worse places we’d have to pose to make them look good. Junkyards. Slaughterhouses. Sewage treatment plants. It’s the ugly bridesmaid tactic where you only look good by comparison.
More and more, being beautiful took so much effort. Just the razor bumps would make you want to cry. The bikini waxes. Evie came out of her collagen lip injection saying she no longer had any fear of hell.
Jump to one time, late one night, driving between Nowhere, Wyoming, and WhoKnowsWhere, Montana, when Seth says how your being born makes your parents God. You owe them your life, and they can control you. “Then puberty makes you Satan,” he says, “just because you want something better.”
And Ellis was right, you only ask people about themselves so you can tell them about yourself.
When you go out with a drunk, you’ll notice how a drunk fills your glass so he can empty his own.
maxomilliary
I’m an invisible monster, and I’m incapable of loving anybody. You don’t know which is worse.
pedicles.
Doing dermabrasion, this one plastic surgeon told me, is about the same as pressing a ripe tomato against a belt sander. What you’re paying for most is the mess.
tintinnabulation
“You know,” Manus sniffs and wipes the back of his hand under his nose. “I’m high right now so it’s okay if I tell you this.” Manus looks at Brandy bent over him and me crouched in the dirt. “First,” Manus says, “your parents, they give you your life, but then they try to give you their life.”
cancellous
L’Air du Temps.
introitus.
crinoline
Charles James
Baffles
