Girl With Curious Hair

Cheese stated that my punkrocker clique all felt as if they had nothing and would always have nothing therefore they made the nothing into everything.

He sees Mark’s bag of fried flowers on the tip-pocked table. Funny thing about those flowers. Who’d voluntarily cook and eat a rose? It’s like planting and watering a breadstick. It’s perverse, and even sort of obscene, eating what’s clearly put on earth to be extra-gastric. Didn’t taste all that hot, either. And there’s still a piece stuck with th

“Almost Talmudically self-conscious?” Mark says. “Obsessed with its own interpretation?”

Julie has the best skin Faye’s ever seen on anyone anywhere. It’s not just that it’s so clear it’s flawed, or that here in low sun off water it’s the color of a good blush wine; it has the texture of something truly alive, an elastic softness, like a ripe sheath, a pod.

We just want to ride, dude. Gratis. To the Reunion. We just want to do the bare unavoidable minimum. Pay taxes, die. Sternberg has resentment even he can’t see, it’s so deep inside. So an ugly mood, and a desperate need to evacuate his body. It’s loathsomely real, I’m afraid. But what’s to be done?

But and so things are slow, and like you they have this irritating suspicion that any real satisfaction is still way, way off, and it’s frustrating; but like basically decent kids they suck it up, bite the foil, because what’s going on is just plain real; and no matter what we want, the real world is pretty slow, at present, for kids our age.

He demands compassion from a mirror he’s backed away from, hoping to make the water stop. But it doesn’t.

Julie and Faye are exchanging anecdotes and inclinations for the twentieth straight month. Julie tells Faye that she, Julie, best likes: contemporary poetry, unkind women, words with univocal definitions, faces whose expressions change by the second, an obscure and limited-edition Canadian encyclopedia called LaPlace’s Guide to Total Data, the gent

“Datsun or nothing,” D.L. iterates to the two, and Mark Nechtr grits his teeth, producing a fine tight smile. D.L. is seen only in Datsuns. It’s a neurosis, for sure, but one so powerful as to dictate acquiescence in many amusing instances we haven’t time for.