A dense undergrowth of extension cords sustains my upper world of lights, music, and machines of comfort.

I will not tolerate your faults. They are of no use to me.

A: Everything changes. B: But not enough.

Nostalgia keeps dissolving the ironic narratives in which I have contained my past.

To a suicide: You just poisoned the wrong person.

I alternate between reading cook books and reading diet books.

You know you're in love when you stop comparing.