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I nodded with genuine synthetic sympathy.

Jeff Lindsay

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Jeff Lindsay
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: July 14
Novelist
Playwright
Writer
Miami
Florida
Jeffry P. Freundlich
Jeffry P. Lindsay
Synthetic
Nodded
Sympathy
Genuine

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For my part, my interest in Paris had faded away completely long ago when I learned that it was in France.
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I rose to my knees, mouth dry and heart pounding, and paused to finger a rip in my beautiful Dacron bowling shirt. I pushed my fingertip through the hole and wiggled it at myself. Hello, Dexter, where are you going? Hello, Mr. Finger. I don't know, but I'm almost there. I hear my friends calling.
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I often find myself in situations where it seems to me like everyone else has read the instruction book
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And once again I found myself wondering, as I drifted off to stunned and unbelieving sleep:How do these terrible things always happen to me?
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Because I am an inhuman monster, I tend to be logical.
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Anybody can be charming if they don't mind faking it, saying all the stupid, obvious, nauseating things that a conscience keeps most people from saying. Happily, I don't have a conscience. I say them.
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I'm quite sure more people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake all of it. --Dexter
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I am unlovable...I have tried to involve myself in other people, in relationships, and even - in my sillier moments - in love. But it doesn't work. Something in me is broken or missing and sooner or later the other person catches me Acting or one of Those Nights comes along.
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A man can take only so much. Even a phony man like me.
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A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.
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But what could I do? Be stupid for a while? I wasn't sure I knew how, even after so many years of careful observation.
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I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.
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But of course, there's no rest for the wicked, which I certainly am as I said, no rest for the wicked.
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After a long moment I closed the freezer door. I wanted to lie down and press my cheek against the cool linoleum. Instead I reached out with my little finger and flipped the Barbie's head. It went thack thack against the door. I flipped it again. Thack thack. Whee. I had a new hobby.
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I don't know if you have noticed this, but it is quite possible for two human beings to have a conversation in which one or both parties involved has absolutely no idea what they're talking about.
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Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.
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And so as much as I can, I care about her, dear Deborah. It's probably not love, but I would rather she were happy.
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No big deal. We all have blood in us, the trick is keeping it inside.
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Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.
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Now I know what it is like to feel like a total idiot.
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