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and the most cunning objectification of all: when he took the person that was him and threw him away.
My mother got out of the passenger’s side. My father got out of the driver’s side.
Oh. Fuck.
only
Including his parents...?
He was the alternative to shooting myself in the head. It wasn’t cruel, this transformation, as long as I never went back home.
If they’d wanted a chance at the real me, they would have called first.
This was my idea of a nice dinner: sitting on the hood of a car eating a chili dog. This was what he meant: a chain steakhouse.
And then, as they stood there, hands in Magdalene’s, I got into the Mustang. It was still running. Their heads barely had time to turn.
The human body doesn’t want to get hurt. There was something wrong with me,
Reminiscent of Isabel's love of biology's rules, and in contrast with it.
Biology formed me and then took a look and wondered what the hell it was thinking and put in a mental fail-safe.
Its guts were dull and utilitarian under all the gloss.
coffee. It was sugar marinated in coffee.
Venice Beach was paradise on earth, the precise shape and color of my soul, but there was no way to explain it to them.
“What is the best thing?” I asked her. “Not just the best thing. The best-best thing. The thing that makes you tie that apron on in the morning each day and think, That is why I am going to work today, to serve that thing to customers who have not yet had that thing and, oh, what a memorable day those unaware initiates are about to have? That is the thing I would like to order. Whatever that is.”
or if it was just that somehow I had finally drawn the logical line between Leon, the server, my parents, and everyone else in the world.
did include a lot of the details I wouldn’t have.
me one way, my parents another, the server a third.
Seven minutes
nine minutes
fifteen m...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
In the beginning, there was the dark and there was the buzz. No, let me start over. In the beginning, there was the suburbs and the days that looked the same stacked on each other’s backs. Then there was me, and the angels fell. No, let me start over again.
This isn’t the way.”
Leyla loomed over me. She gripped my hand and pulled me up. She didn’t say: This is the future growing the seeds you sowed in the past. She asked, “Are you okay, man?”
leave anything else having to do with the show in the car, too.”
five
A hummingbird zoomed by my head. He looked at me. “I give it to her.”
There are better ways to cope than just pulling the plug on your brain.”
him.
He listened to you and respected what you said, but you think he's cowardly for it? What sort of bullshit is that?
dress-up and so much pointless glitter. I just hated — Why couldn’t this glitter rub off on me?
secondhand shop.
Why would Isabel be in a second hand shop?
I erased the other true parts.
There was nothing wrong with any of it except that he’d taken a quote about wanting to die every second of every day and tattooed it on his body because he didn’t understand.
The worst part was that eventually you forgot about the people you loved.
We were learning each other.
I love this aspect nearly as much as, if not more than, Virtual Cole.
Isabel stepped into the booth.
Whhhhhhhhy? What changed? How did we/she get here? Does not compute.
gentlemen, that was Cole St. Clair of NARKOTIKA.
Z~
