Alice asks me if I remember how it all began. I tell her that we were on our way to pick her up from kindergarten the day that the news broke. The day that the Sriracha factory closed.
Everyone remembers Taft as our fattest President. The teachers telling us the story of how Taft once got stuck in his own bathtub.
Tales of groundbreaking innovation sound a lot alike. Like action-adventure movies, they have a predictable structure.
David Fincher in a bad mood isn’t easy to discern from David Fincher in a good mood. Fincher tired is the same as Fincher energized.
Your husband owns a clinic that offers to cure homosexuality for up to $10,000 a year. So when you, Representative Bachmann, refused to acknowledge the bullying of gay students in your district, this must have been strictly business.
If this typewriter can’t do it, then fuck it, it can’t be done.
Fat girl, fat jokes. Fat girl, skinny friends. Fat girl, stand next to fatter people to look thin. Fat girl, fat camp, five years. Fat girl lost two pounds and you didn’t notice.
It’s one of my theories that when people give you advice, they’re really just talking to themselves in the past.
Yo, I caught you trying to take my mother’s feet. You made Aunt Glenda’s arms open up in the bathroom, blood ran the floor like a point guard.
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.
I did stand-up comedy for eighteen years. Ten of those years were spent learning, four years were spent refining, and four were spent in wild success.
“In animal life the weak are quickly disposed of.”
Truth be told, I’m not an easy man. I can be an entertaining one, though it’s been my experience that most people don’t want to be entertained. They want to be comforted.
I don’t know how I should live. I don’t know how anyone should live. All I know is how I do live. I live like a peeled snail. And that’s no way to make money.
Up in the morning, I feel the immediate beat of my heart that is speeding up, feeding a demon that’s seeking to eat at my being.
I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. I visited my wife’s grave. Then I joined the army. Visiting Kathy’s grave was the less dramatic of the two.
The very first thing I tell my new students on the first day of a workshop is that good writing is about telling the truth.
Listen, here’s the thing: If you can’t spot the sucker in your first half hour at the table… then you are the sucker.
It happened this way: I fell in love and then, because the love was ruining everything I cared about, I had to fall out.
I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be “Sir”. Do you maggots understand that?
Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
My mom holds her accent like a shotgun: with two good hands.
The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it.
I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a Dumpster.
I only ever met one man I wouldn’t want to fight.