When you move house, you move the stuff with you. Beneath a few notebooks and rubber bands, there’s a letter from a former lover. You no longer see each other.
Nothing better to put a broken heart into perspective, I think to myself, than the inanity of the llama, the enlightenment of the sloth, the opportunism of the chimpanzee.
Today does not mark anything particularly special, but nevertheless there is an 8o per cent chance that today is a special day: I must increase measurement sensitivity, be alert to abnormal behaviour.
‘You can pay for half the procedure.’
‘How much is that gonna be?’
‘I think it costs two hundred and fifty dollars,’ I say. ‘But I might just be getting that from Dirty Dancing.’
'So you hop on a teapot and listen to this chick called Moon or June or Spoon who wants to tell you you’ve a beautiful aura, but doesn’t want to discuss her RL non-existence as a dental technician in Las Cruces.'
Everybody wanted to buy a taco made by That Guy, the guy who needed to get away from his girlfriend so bad that he basically dug a hole in the ground where he could finally have a little peace.
'Way out at word number 70 or 100 or 140 in a sentence deep into a three-page paragraph of macabre humour or fabulously reticulated self-consciousness, you could smell the ozone from the crackling precision of his sentence structure.'