And if anyone complains that prunes, even when mitigated by custard, are an uncharitable vegetable (fruit they are not), stringy as a miser’s heart and exuding a fluid such as might run in misers’ veins who have denied themselves wine and warmth for eighty years and yet not given to the poor, he should reflect that there are people whose charity embraces even the prune.
[Virginia Woolf]

Essays

A QUESTIONNAIRE REGARDING THE PHENOMENON OF SNUGGIES, the Blanket with Sleeves, for the Testing of Your Understanding of American Home Economies and Your Own Personal Desires, Written in the Style of Walker Percy’s Lost in the Cosmos, which You Should Read.

1. Do you want a Snuggie? a. I already have two, and the free booklight. My Weimaraner wears the second and I use the booklight to retouch my makeup in the car when it’s dark. b. A TV screen is closer than I like to be to those things. When the ads come on I […]

Roland

Roland never drove before noon, so all my memories of him are set against the relieved exhaustion of a school day done, light always from the southwest, sun still high but shouldering downward. He was broad, with eyes the color of a robin’s egg behind thick glasses, strawberry blond hair like a trimmed mop, and a terribly pockmarked face.

Little Body All Throat

When I was twelve I killed my parakeet. She lived for a few years after I killed her, but she was not herself—she was thicker, slower, had to beat her wings twice as hard to get into the air.

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