From Girls Like You
This your second baby? New White Lady say. She make a pursed-up face like she taste something bad. Pink lipstick lips all squished together like some worm. It say on your transcript that this your second baby.
Yeah white ho', what of it? Onlies I don't say that. Don't say nothin. They hates that, when you don't say nothin. It say fuck-all on my transcript. Ain't no transcript say I got no baby. First White Lady gone tell her. First White Lady even uglier than new White Lady: teeth all yellowish, dent down her forehead like she hit with a truck, big butt and no tits. Titless Wonder I called her....
From Vectors: 50 Aphorisms
1. The road reaches every place, the short cut only one.
2. If the couple could see themselves twenty years later, they might not recognize the love, but they would recognize the argument.
3. Everything but pain is a hobby.
4. Value yourself according to the burdens you carry, and you will find everything a burden.
From Trains of Thought
At the beginning was the train. It seems to me that I have always been on one. At times I almost believe that I was born on a train. I even imagined that I was conceived in a sleeper, between two European cities, or crossing some frontier. It later amused me to learn that certain specialized bordellos in Paris had rooms that simulated the rocking and the sounds of a moving train.
As a child I stored sensations inseparable from the compartment's cradling motion: lights gliding along the ceiling, other lights flicking by the window, the shapes of cranes and water pumps against the night sky, the sounds of jarring and couplings when the train had halted in some station. There were so many other train sensations--but how to be sure that they are truly the infant's impressions, that they were not inscribed into memory at a later time? When exactly did I register the sound of the probing hammer against the axle or the brake, the more accented beat in the tunnels, the almost organic creakings when the train stood still, the human panting of the locomotive? I knew nothing yet, for sure, of the throbbing and panting of the locomotive in Italo Svevo's Confessions of Zeno, associated with the death of the father. I later discovered by myself how choking a son's sense of guilt can be....