Somewhere in the last few years—and I can’t pinpoint exactly when—a vague yet almost overwhelming and irrational annoyance started tearing through me maybe up to a dozen times a day. This annoyance was over things so seemingly minor, so out of my usual field of reference, that I was surprised by how I had to… Continue reading Somewhere in the . . .
A letter story after Bret Easton Ellis. The funeral was horrible. And you want me to say it wasn't. And I want that, too. But every time I lie, I feel worse. I don't blame you. What to do. Where to be. What we should have done. How it all might have been better. Or… Continue reading Black Sky