"Oh we’re a mess, poor humans, poor flesh—hybrids of angels and animals, dolls with diamonds stuffed inside them We’ve been to the moon and we’re still fighting over Jerusalem. Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper.
I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it."
Richard Siken, Spork Editor’s Pages: Black Telephone (via yakovbarnes)
Lane Pryce still remains one of my most beloved fictional TV characters. His death was haunting. But it was done right. Everything before that episode, I feel, was all written to get to that point. It was such a slow burn. At one point, everyone knew what was coming. It felt so obvious that we all almost hoped it wasn’t happening anymore. So I can’t be mad. It was repressed fear and everything unsettling— I couldn’t have asked for a better exit.
It was so good. Which only made it all the more sad.
CAN I GET A HELL YEAH IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING WITH YOUR LIFE AND YOU DON’T GET ENOUGH SLEEP
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook, not
the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication, not
the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punch line, the door or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
Emptied of expectation.
Relax. Don’t bother remembering any of it. Let’s stop here,
under the lit sign on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.