I introduced Nora as my wife, though that was a lie. Old people, that's what they wanted to hear. If you were married, you were mature, reliable, exactly like them, because in their day men and women didn't just live together--they made a commitment, they had children and went on cruises and built big houses on lakes and filled them with all the precious trinkets and manufactured artifacts they'd collected along the way.
T. Coraghessan BoyleTag: marriage maturity wives commitment reliability belongings cohabitation
I have an idea and a first line -- and that suggests the rest of it. I have little concept of what I’m going to say, or where it’s going. I have some idea of how long it’s going to be -- but not what will happen or what the themes will be. That’s the intrigue of doing it -- it’s a process of discovery. You get to discover what you’re going to say and what it’s going to mean.
T. Coraghessan BoyleTag: writing writing-advice beginnings starting-a-book writing-fiction
But then all writers smoke, don't they? And drink? And sit in front of computer screens till their arteries clog and muscles atrophy?
T. Coraghessan BoyleTag: writers-on-writing
Who was she in high school? Little Miss Nobody. She could have embroidered it on her sweaters, tattooed it across her forehead. And in small letters: i am shit, i am anonymous, step on me. please. She wasn't voted Most Humorous in her high school yearbook or Best Dancer or Most Likely to Succeed, and she wasn't in the band or Spanish Club and when her ten year reunion rolled around nobody would recognize her or have a single memory to share.
T. Coraghessan BoyleShe didn't recognize him and he didn't recognize her, because people and places change and what once was will never be again.
T. Coraghessan BoyleTag: tooth-and-claw
Besides, to like something, to really like it and come out and say so, is taking a terrible risk. I mean, what if I'm wrong? What if it's really no good?
T. Coraghessan BoyleIt was then that my gaze happened to fall on the bookcase, on the gap there, where the old paperback of "Nine Stories" had fallen flat. "Where's the thing?" I said.
"What thing?"
"The mesh. My mesh."
She shrugged. "I tossed it."
"Tossed it? Where? What do you mean?"
In the next moment I was in the kitchen, flipping open the lid of the trash can, only to find it empty. "You mean outside?" I shouted. "In the dumpster?"
When I came thundering back into the room, she still hadn't moved. "Jesus, what were you thinking? That was mine. I wanted that. I wanted to keep it."
Her lips barely moved. "It was dirty.
Tag: shaming dysfunctional-relationships broken-homes passive-aggression
Er war jetzt ein Wesen der Wände und Zimmer, ein Sklave des Essens [...].
T. Coraghessan BoyleWar der Mensch bei seiner Geburt eine tabula rasa, ungeformt und ohne Ideen, bereit, von der Gesellschaft beschrieben zu werden, erziehbar und imstande, auf dem Weg zur Vervollkommnung voranzuschreiten? Oder stellte die Gesellschaft, wie Rousseau behauptete, einen verderblichen Einfluss dar und nicht das Fundament alles Richtigen und Guten?
T. Coraghessan BoyleTag: philanthropy gesellschaft
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