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In its own way the kiss had been an act of murder.

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
Kiss
Murder
Kissing
Way

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This was just no fun. I wanted my brain back.
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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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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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And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.
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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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But as I have noticed on more than one occaision, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on.
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The mind picks some very bad times to take a walk doesn't it?
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For the first time I could remember, I felt weak, woozy and stupid— like a human-being. Like a very small and helpless human-being.
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Rectory always sounded to me like a place where you would find a proctologist.
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First things first has always been my motto, mostly because it makes absolutely no sense - after all, if first things were second or third, they wouldn't be first things, would they? Still, cliches exist to comfort the feeble minded, not to provide any actual meaning.
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What a terrible thing life can be.
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you can’t use logic on human behavior.
Jeff Lindsay
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...being torn apart by far too many loyalties that could not possibly live together in the same brain.
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And as we should all know by now, anytime you predict failure you have an excellent chance of being right.
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I'm a very neat monster.
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I sighed as comforting as it may be to some of us, sarcasm, like youth, is wasted on the young.
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Money to me had always been merely something the sheep used to show each other how wonderful they were.
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...she opened the door very slowly and carefully, half hiding behind it, as if badly frightened of what might be waiting for her on the other side. And considering that it was me waiting, this showed rare common sense.
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She really did like me, the idiot.
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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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