It’s like my characters, all my men are Dad and me in a mess; all my female characters are smart and hopeful, like Mom just trying to make the best of things.
That’s how I became the damaged party boy who wandered through the wreckage, blood streaming from his nose, asking questions that never required answers.
And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn’t and probably never will. this relationship will probably lead to nothing… this didn’t change anything. I imagine her smelling clean, like tea.
I stare into a thin, web-like crack above the urinal’s handle and think to myself that if I were to disappear into that crack, say somehow miniaturize and slip into it, the odds are good that no one would notice I was gone.
And,” Price adds, smiling, “if another round of Bellinis comes within a twenty-foot radius of our table we are going to set the maitre d’ on fire. So you know, warn him.
And as the elevator descents, passing the second floor, and the first floor, going even father down, I realize that the money doesn’t matter. That all that does is that I want to see the worst
I don’t really need to pretend, because it’s who I am, an emotional vampire. I’ve just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people’s real emotions. Search for this night’s prey. Who will it be?
