[Excerpt] Carrie
After two hours, I got another text:
“omg this uber guy took me to an empty parking lot and said I had to blow him. I screamed and Sugar barked so he did drive me to the airport but I got here too late so missed the flight. Promise to make next one in two hours, kisses”
Carrie
After two hours, I got another text:
“omg this uber guy took me to an empty parking lot and said I had to blow him. I screamed and Sugar barked so he did drive me to the airport but I got here too late so missed the flight. Promise to make next one in two hours, kissesJ
A Venice Tale
Los Angeles. The sun - kissed taste of sandy freedom, smoggy alleyways and city tenements, stars, the heart of plastic grandeur, an American Dream personified.
I was holed up in a pad on Venice beach in between jobs. I had no furniture. It was after a break-up.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?