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Kindle Notes & Highlights
his is how old I am: I loved the Sears catalogue. It kills me that I now need to explain what that was. It was an inventory of everything you ever dreamed of owning.
The moment that monitor goes black, you’re looking at yourself, not smiling, not anything.
Children and young people are always looking for an anchor, a tether, some attachment to ground them in the impossible world.
You young people, you who think you invented fun and drugs and good times, fuck you.
No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be the sense you missed something,
“On game shows,” Brandy reads, “some people will take the trip to France, but most people will take the washer-dryer pair.”
“When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?”
“When we don’t know who to hate, we hate ourselves.”
“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known.”
It’s scary, but now when I see somebody blush, my reaction isn’t: Oh, how cute. A blush only reminds me how blood is just under the surface of everything.
What I need to do is fuck up so bad I can’t save myself.
The truth is, being ugly isn’t the thrill you’d think, but it can be an opportunity for something better than I ever imagined. The truth is I’m sorry.
