28 sentences

onions

my dudes sam and alex and i do this circular email where we write one sentence. it’s not linked into a narrative or really connected. these are 28 of my sentences, in the order in which they occurred. most are just things i thought of, some are from pieces i am trying to write in my brain and or on paper.

  • I feel like my brain is growing moss.
  • Money is a mean kind of language.
  • He stared at girls the same way some people stared at pictures of cats on the internet–a curious blend of compulsion and indolence.
  • Nobody ever wants to acknowledge that the world is made up of people just like them.
  • In hindsight it was selfish of previous generations to hog the Enlightenment.
  • I felt stale and at odds with myself for weeks, but then I bought a new duvet cover.
  • A few hundred times each year, the community assembles to don licensed apparel and scream at someone’s sons or daughters as they play a glorified version of hopscotch.
  • Humanity has really lost touch with the mercy killing, as far as species-wide manners go.
  •  There is no sign, no border checkpoint between the country of your pathologies and of your personality. The dirt just quietly shades another color.
  • Emotions are not clean fuels.
  • There was a permanent kink in his neck from peering over his shoulder.
  •  His ears were slightly cauliflowered, not from rugby or wrestling or boxing but just because his blood pumped too much too hard too heavy.
  • There’s ships that pass in the night, and then there’s ships that collide in the night.
  • Her teeth glowed like a backlit screen. 
  •  A black rubber river carried the rejected merchandise toward Fisher’s weary arms: vacuum cleaners, dresses, sea salt, books, shoes.
  • I had a phase where I ate a lot of venison, on some misguided belief it would bring me closer to mother earth.
  • Coming to terms with my particular consumerist death trip is a lifelong process.
  • We used up our allotment of just wars.
  • Everyone everywhere is choking on history and they don’t even seem to mind.
  • What were people nostalgic for before we had nothing to worry about?
  • Cities live and die on a different schedule from human lives, like owners outliving pets.
  • We’re fucking up outer space just like we fucked up regular space–zooming to natural boundaries and then backfilling with weakly hopeless suburbs.
  • If we’re going to build utopia it’s going to have to be a market-driven, individual-consumer-driven process.
  •  I can totally understand that there are different breeds of humanity and that your breed cares a lot about $400 jeans but I can also understand fuck you get away from me.
  • Maturation is not an irreversible process.
  • Jesus wasn’t a very specific guy.
  • I hold on to the dying embers of relationships like ticket stubs. There’s a drawer full of them in my mind.
  • I forgot which one of us was the puppet and which was the hand.

One thought on “28 sentences”

  1. These are the opening lines to 28 separate short stories. Compelling. Love it.

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