1 hour ago
Intoxication doesn't just happen. It's an art, one that requires talent and application. Haphazard drinking leads nowhere.... is the beginning of Amélie Nothomb's Pétronille.
When people ask me what I do--taxi drivers, hairdressers--I tell them I work in an office. In almost nine years, no one's ever asked what kind of office, or what sort of job I do there.
Our father leaned out the window. "When you're tired of being up there, you'll change your mind!" he shouted.
"I'll never change my mind," exclaimed my brother from the branch.
"You'll see as soon as you come down!"
"I'll never come down again!" And he kept his word.
'Cosimo...acquired a passion for reading and study which remained with him for the rest of his life. The attitude in which we now usually found him was astride a comfortable branch with a book open in his hand, or leaning over the fork of a tree as if he were on a school bench, with a sheet of paper on a plank and an inkstand in a hole in the tree, writing with a long quill pen.'I may have perched in a tree and read a book once or twice when I was younger, but I never thought of making a career of it. Maybe I should have!
As my cab pulled off FDR Drive, somewhere in the early Hundreds, a low-slung Tomahawk full of black guys came sharking out of lane and sloped in fast right across our bows. We banked, and hit a deep well or grapple-ridge in the road: to the sound of a rifle-shot the cab roof ducked down and smacked me on the core of my head....is the beginning of Martin Amis' Money.
"Hey pig!" was one of the many greetings thrown from cars, with bags of warm garbage, each day as I walked home, my chin tucked into my neck....is the beginning of Lynn Crosbie's Where Did You Sleep Last Night?
At home, a cuff to the face for the bowl left in the sink.
In my room, I saw under my dead boyfriend's poster, and love flooded through my barren heart, as always.