miss you motherfuckers. look at these humans. did wesley schultz or levon helm or jacopo sannazaro or frances macdonald sing ophelia best?
noticed "reasonably" in "they were all waiting reasonably for the train" in abortion pressure in the basque terminal bar in "hills like white elephants"
maintain convey. and high quality word of the day. negalomaniac next time. irs estimates top one percent avoids $175 billion, audit rates decline
steamed crab, updated advertisements. constellations the original connect the dots. pretend to be the cool kids until you surprise depose them
read the brief and wondrous life of oscar wao by yunior, huascar, project oscar. todopoderoso appears, omnisciente the more pertinent superpower
so stupid he thought the moon was a stain that god had forgotten to clean
that's what she called him whenever she was feeling tender or wronged. mister. later she'd want to put that on his gravestone but no one would let her, not even me
he was nineteen and lived down at the jersey shore with his seventy-four-year-old father. in the back of his oldsmobile on university i pulled my leather skirt up and my fishnet stockings down and the smell of me was everywhere
for about a month they scromfed in various isolated corners of the school until the day a teacher, acting on an anonymous tip from a member of the student body, surprised the undercover couple in flagrante delicto in a broom closet. just imagine: beli butt naked, her vast scar like nothing anybody had seen before, and jack with his pants puddled around his ankles
there it was, the decision that changed everything. or as she broke it down to lola in her last days: all i wanted was to dance. what i got instead was esto, she said, opening her arms to encompass the hospital, her children, her cancer, america
one of the authors of the king james bible traveled the caribbean, and i often think that it was a place like samana that was on his mind when he sat down to pen the eden chapters
yunior?
what?
are you awake?
if it's about star trek-
it's not about star trek. he coughed. i have heard from a reliable source that no dominican male has ever died a virgin. you who have experience in these matters-do you think this is true?
i sat up. dude was peering at me in the dark, dead serious.
o, it's against the laws of nature for a dominicano to die without fucking at least once.
that, he sighed, is what worries me.
i didn't bother with the romance. i let him take me to a love motel on our first "date." he was one of those vain politicos, a peledista, had his own big air-conditioned jipeta. when i pulled my pants down you never saw anybody so happy.
until i asked him for two thousand dollars. american, i ephasized.
it's like abuela says: every snake always thinks it's biting into a rat until the day it bites into a mongoose
each morning, before jackie started her studies, she wrote onto a clean piece of paper: tarde venientibus ossa
abelard had rehearsed a dozen answers to this question, but his response was pure reflex, came out of nowhere: yes, jefe, you are correct, i have two daughters. but to tell you the truth, they're only beautiful if you have a taste for women with mustaches.
for an instant el jefe said nothing, and in that twisting silence abelard could see his daughter being violated in front of him while he was lowered with excruciating slowness into trujillo's infamous pool of sharks. but then, miracle of miracles, el jefe crinkled his porcine face and laughed, abelard had laughed too, and el jefe moved on
his tio rudolfo, who was watching the game on the tv, took a moment to call out, in his best grandpa simpson voice: prostitutes ruined my life
in the dr they called a cop-divorce a bullet
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