With a broken-down oven, in a hotel kitchen, on an uninhabited island
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Finding then losing then finding again a pocketknife, losing yourself in a bookstore, losing your sex drive
The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly. Richard Bach, Illusions
The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.
Richard Bach, Illusions
I first met Mataji at the river. I had travelled a long way by bus, boat, and truck. The Middle Eastern countries were hard to travel through. I was pelted with rocks once. Women just don’t travel alone in Muslim areas.
I can’t figure out why Adam and Eve stood for it. If they had enough gumption to question the menu, you’d think they would have said, “Now, just a minute, God. Cool down. Let’s not overreact.”
The artist speaks of the “muse” and the musician says “I was hot,” but in their hearts there is only mysterious joy: I was present at a beautiful event and yet it was not “I.”
I like Ramona. I want to win the lottery, pay her brother back for the car, bounce her and the baby out of the attic apartment.
“Ma! Ma, Patty’s up the big tree again kissing Billy! Ma!” I kept looking at Patty’s smooth face across the branch from me in the tree, and hearing Tony shouting into the house.