Hal Varian
Next it becomes the thing for her.
Straight is another name for bent.
Crooked is the skyline.
Nothing else is getting bounced.
I maim nine men in Saginaw wan, I mine nine men in Miami.
"What a pity, Tarquin Superbus is not in the paddocks. After
all, when everyone else is enjoying themselves I don’t see why Tarquin
shouldn’t get his afternoon out."
It was a dark and stormy morning.
It was a bright and sunny afternoon.
Quietly, she got out of bed.
I want to have sex with her.
Take a chill pill
Apropos to a drink.
Never and never my girl riding far and near
Necronomicon. Cryptonomicon.
Sacred brides of the dark tower.
Author, author.
Lest we forget, there but for the Grace of God.
Nine lives.
Nuts and bolts.
I have to take my blood pressure.
Norma Jean, Norman Mailer, Neiman Marcus.
It is what it is.
The world chooses to gobble up the gentle ones.
Hecklers are not the worst thing about being an unfunny
comedian.
Positive thinking should give rise to homicidal mania. In
others.
Do or don’t do. There is no try.
There is no tie.
There is no spoon.
I have a giant headache.
Sequential addresses give me migraine.
I am the fool of the world.
And it is my poor fool that is hanged.
I get the tune.
Tune in for the next interview.
Radio makes me feel connected to the world.
I can’t be the only one who likes this music.
I see two authors on stage, dancing.
Release the Kraken.
Driving from LA to San Francisco through Highway 5.
Pacific Coastal Highway to Seattle.
The mountains of Montana are grey in the winter.
The lakes of Minnesota in the summer is the place to be.
No one likes happy stories.
Everyone wants to be happy.
Does that mean everyone does not want to be in stories?
Ask me another, ripe begonias.
Neanderthal is not the same s Cro-Magnon
Tiny hands and tiny feet, pitter patter of the rain.
Eight ounces of cocaine, sneezed on.
And I would walk five hundred miles. And I would walk five
hundred more.
Ted Koppel’s hair is like that of Donald Trump.
I do not watch CNN..
I walked up the stairs to her apartment because the elevator
was busted.
Knowing five people in heaven is knowing five people too
many.
I keep getting distracted when I try to write my novel.
I do not think starving artists are sexy.
Moscow does not believe in tears.
Paris is a creaky old town with bad plumbing and even worse
civil engineering.
No one cares what the night life in Murther Tid-ville is
like.
Parachuting in to the Sacre Coeur.
Taking a dump inside the Notre Dame is not an artwork.
Art is an industry.
No one understands art.
The cat from Calais can try to swim to Dover. It takes the
Channel tunnel instead.
Des Moines is a very sleepy town.
Snowball fights are not a fun activity…they must be won at
any cost.
The apple trees growing near the forest next to my apartment
sway in the winter gale.
In the summer the ground beneath is littered with apples.
They are very sour.
But the grapes I seek are in the vineyard.
Red wine is height of sensation. It is beautiful in taste
and texture.
Fish can be fried with breadcrumbs, with a slight dip in
eggs.
I can hardly see the picture in my living room. It is still
half ensconced in the bag I brought it in.
Eternal sunshine for the spineless ego.
Nobody handles Handel like they handle Handel.
Noir is as noir does.
The river runs through campus.
I like the style of Hemingway.
But I write in long, tortuous sentences.
Fuck, fuckity fuck.
Philosophy is the alternative to holding your dick in
public.
Is there a point to this?
Miles to go before I puke.
Not in our name. But whose? We paid for that shit.
Bars o my phone are not indicative of the quality of the
voice call.
Headphones. Because killing wankers who play loud and bad
music is illegal.
There are two kinds of music: German and bad.
No one really wants to pay the fine but everyone wants to
get on the ride.
Why can’t Disney come clean about the serial killers
prowling around its grounds?
Why is there never an essay on licking the anus?
I am not Charlotte Simmons.
I don’t even own a white suit. (Totally LOL)
If you need me, me and Neil would be hanging out with the
Dream King.
I have to try harder for a peek in to your soul.
I want to wake up where you are.
Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands.
Moon River, wider than a mile, I’m crossing it in style
someday.
On a long enough timeline the survival rate of everyone
falls to zero.
Why oh why oh why is it so wonderful to be a Tigger?
Sunset and Hollywood are parallel universes.
Text messages written on a flip phone are less important.
Nebraska is very flat, indicative of its native populace’s
brain scans.
Grand Canyon makes Dali paintings seem meaningful.
Nero Wolf now takes out ads on LA Weekly, next to the ads of
escort services.
Leave the money on the night stand.
Double shots of bourbon, neat. Single shot of Scotch with
soda.
Kneeling in front of the Nativity Scene in front of St
James’, lighting a candle. The statues are made
from flammable material.
Pushing the shopping cart beyond the parking lot of the
grocery store.
Jaywalking in broad daylight in busy street.
Therapist or the rapist?
Marriage counseling is the ultimate act of cruelty.
Sixteen men on the dead man’s chest.
Night of the living.
Yogurt in the morning, fruit salad for lunch, supersized
fries and cheeseburger for supper.
Dying is an ancient art of avoiding responsibility.
On the origin of stupidity.
The descent of bad ideas.
Scheherazade and Dunyazade: twisted sisters.
