It's 2 am, I'm not drunk, I'm alone, and I'm not depressed. What a pleasant surprise, given my recent state of utter lackadaisia. And I have this man, Steve Almond, to thank. His new collection of is called "The Evil B.B. Chow and other stories" and in it are some really great, I think, stories.
One of my favorite excerpts, from "Summer, As in Love":
"Instead, we close our eyes and let our lovers step toward us, through the fading hydrangeas, the impenetrable dusk. And when their hands tremble, we take them in ours and pledge never to leave them, not now, not ever. Even as the summer ends and the books take on their true, cruel weight, this is the story we tell ourselves, and I would trade every word in the English language for the chance, right now, once again, to believe."
Fucking brilliant. By the way, I would definitely trade that chance to believe to write stuff like that. Well, maybe I wouldn't. But still.
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