I want to write a book called, “Son, I’m dying,” where I visualize the day my estranged dad calls me out of the blue to tell me he is dying, and in as many ways as possible I’ll offer up various responses to that.

“Sometimes when I read before bed I get so tired that my eyes gloss over the sen…”

“If love came out of exhaust pipes, like a penis that penetrated deep into one, …”

“I've always been one to share things. Particularly things like responsibility a…”

“I like to call in sick to work at places where I’ve never held a job. Then when…”