She should think about her own soul, what she was going to do with this funky tattered pond dank item. Dark and stained, a ruined thing.

She would be half a planet away, floating in a turquoise sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco guitar.

Reading LOVE JUNKIE is like watching a sleepwalker taking a stroll on a freeway. All you can do is pray. Gorgeously written, piercingly honest.

It's not that he was going nowhere, it's that he'd already arrived.

The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. Only the oleanders thrived, their delicate poisonous blooms, their dagger green leaves. We could not sleep in the hot dry nights, my mother and I.

She would buy magic every day of the week. Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you whatever you want.

He reminded me of someone who put your fingers in the door and smiled and talked to you while he smashed them.