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For nothing is more unbearable, once one has it, than freedom. James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room
“To hell with God,” Fern said. “I’m worried about the Internet.”
When in doubt, do the polite thing; he’d internalized this dictum from his scrupulously polite mother too decisively to unlearn it.
Trudy was an avid Facebook poster, a touter of family vacations and toddler artworks, a coiner of sappy hashtags like #motherdaughterlove and #thankgoodnessforgrandparents that Alfred logged on to Facebook specifically to be enraged by.
And us? We were twenty-three and twenty-four, still near enough to college that functioning as adults felt like pulling something off.
A gain is a loss when it comes to technology—my
She swung her father’s arm, champagne and cocaine waltzing in her blood. In a park, they stood beside a lake full of swans and toy sailboats. As the musicians tried to push one another in, their manager turned suddenly to Roxy and asked, “What do you plan to do with your life?” Normally, she would have said, Become a dancer or an actress or just Be famous! (like every other L.A. kid), might have mentioned the MTV videos and several more she was already booked to shoot. But Roxy said, “I want to make my mark,” with such crisp finality that both men laughed in surprise. She felt her father’s
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Heroin is her great love, her life’s work, and she has given up everything for it, through renunciation or sheer neglect.
Jocelyn got a social work degree in her forties and settled down with a famous guitarist who’d been in love with her since high school. Not Roxy. She will depart this world empty-handed: a sacrifice that only Kiki, in the religious fervor of her girlhood, might have understood.
I didn’t have the strength to walk away from Stella so Mom planned a Kitten Cap Party in fourth grade where she would help every girl make a kitten cap, Mom is a very good sewer and I invited all of the girls who mattered EXCEPT for Stella and of course she found out and started being nice again, but Mom said DO NOT BUDGE until she gives you Tears and Groveling, nothing less,
If you love someone with dark skin, white skin looks drained of something vital.
The need for personal glory is like cigarette addiction: a habit that feels life-sustaining even as it kills you.
Violent men live in fear of retribution.
Among the violent, there is always a plan for escape.
Homes of the violent rich have excellent first-aid cabinets.
A smile is like a shield; it freezes your face into a mask you can hide behind.
A smile is a door that is both open and closed.
Dad sits in his recliner reading The Wall Street Journal.
Tongue-in-cheek nostalgia is merely the portal, the candy house, if you will, through which we hope to lure in a new generation and bewitch them.
Social media was dead, everyone agreed; self-representations were inherently narcissistic or propagandic or both, and grossly inauthentic.
“Not a lot,” Gregory admitted, which sounded better than Not at all. “I’ve been too drained.” “Maybe not-writing is what’s draining you,” she said.
One horror of motherhood lies in the moments when she can see both the exquisiteness of her child and his utter inconsequence to others.
