More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
If anything, Penny resented that Celeste had decided somewhere along the way that her daughter could parent herself.
Sam had resting bitch face until he laughed. Penny had never wanted anything as bad as to make him do it again.
Knowing that your only computer was about to crap out on you despite not having nearly enough money to replace it can only be described as horror. Horror and terror. Torror.
The computer probably cost more than his life. Which made a kind of sense since it was decisively more capable than he’d ever been.
((hi)) <- denoting indoor voice of normal vol
Some people’s coping mechanisms were all about festering and secrecy and ruminating until you grew yourself a nice little tumor in your heart with a side of panic attack. Different strokes.
People were odd. Sam loved and loathed that about them. Fiction was fine, but real life was the true freak show.
She was eighteen, for Christ’s sake, a respectable age to start having healthy consensual sex. Sexy sex with someone sexy.
Lorraine had a habit of kidding in a way that made you want to walk off a bridge.
“Writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.”—Mary Heaton Vorse.
It’s so haaaaaaaaaaard It hurts my feelings it’s so hard And it’s scary
A monster who was flat as a board with no ass. In fact, the only thing she had going on in the curves department was an enormous cystic pimple on her chin that hurt when she touched it. Yeah, no.
They were together again. He was simply too embarrassed to tell her. In fact, they’d eloped in Marfa, where they now lived inside the Prada store with their freakishly attractive baby, who would roll out of Lorraine’s womb covered in tattoos and wearing the coolest vintage sunglasses.
But how do you make something unreal feel real?
I want to be with someone I can talk to. I want to be with someone who automatically has a fat folder on me. Someone who feels lucky when I tell them the most unflattering, scary stuff. I don’t think I love you anymore, and I got to be honest, I don’t believe that you love me.”
I’m happy to know you exist. And even though I feel like I screwed things up, I thought I’d let you know.
Don’t drag the entire me folder into the desktop trash can so you hear the paper-rustling sound.”
“You don’t choose it. It chooses you. If you waste that chance, your talent dies. That’s when you start dying along with it.”
“Yeah, exactly where a dad should be. Holding a firearm and warding off potential suitors until that daughter is of consenting age,” he said. “Which in my book is about forty-six.”
She wished she could explore his body and inspect him. Learn him and memorize him. That way she’d know what to miss when he was gone.
Loving someone was traumatizing. You never knew what would happen to them out there in the world. Everything precious was also vulnerable.
To be the hero, you had to decide it was you.
