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Maybe that’s why people have friends at all. Not because they like them so much but because they don’t make them feel so much worse.

Joe Meno

Maybe that’s why people have friends at all. Not because they like them so much but because they don’t make them feel so much worse.

Joe Meno
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Apples are kissing other apples. Gray cats are kissing other gray cats. Trees are kissing trees. You and I are not kissing. We work in an office together. We are both married to other people. It is okay because we only have ideas, you and I, about whether we should kiss or not. These ideas are both good and bad, probably. At work, we do not say these words aloud but make elaborate diagrams for one another. You write these words: Kissing you would be like this, and draw a picture of two butterflies being struck by lightning. I stare at it and wonder if you may be right. I do my own drawing and write, Kissing you would be like this, and sketch a picture of a man made of ice kissing a woman who is actually a stove. We have made hundreds of these drawings. We do not actually do any work.
Joe Meno
Go to a goddamn priest if you wanna be lied to. I've seen too many of your kind slip back inside to fool myself. If you wanna think you're a new man, hell, that's fine. But don't think you're looking any different in anyone else's mind.
Joe Meno
Slow as your own dubious grace.
Joe Meno
The city glitters past us with its sharp edges, reminding us of how tiny, how weak, how totally unimportant we are.
Joe Meno
...and realizes how there are all these moments, moments like just this one, there are all these moments, and how everyone lives their lives in these short, all-too-short moments. There are all these moments and what's so interesting, what makes them beautiful, is the fact that none of them last.
Joe Meno
Imagination is a place where all the important answers live.
Joe Meno
After school the very next day, El Rey's mobile home was gone. I laid in bed and wondered what happens to people when they go, if they become like shadows, if they fade away when they disappear from your life. The only thing I could see was the broken picket fence. The only sound I could hear was the cry of birds being killed in the night.
Joe Meno
I was just going to stand here and watch it happen. I wasn’t going to say a fucking thing. Why? Because what did it matter? What did any of it matter?
Joe Meno
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