Mortality

My brain would rather be anywhere but here — planning dinner, rehearsing catastrophes, fantasizing — as if the present moment were the one place it can’t bear to stay.

I’ve got a lot to be thankful for — family, material fortune, and, maybe most of all, the fact that I’ve mostly stopped being at war with myself.

The shame of buying a pack, and the way my body betrays me by feeling better the moment I decide to do it.

The smartest and hottest sex bloggers, all in one place.

We men are like a kid running with scissors: irresponsible and dangerous.

Saturday Night Live, when it was great — Chevy Chase, Garrett Morris, and the death of Generalissimo Francisco Franco.

What if what I’ve always understood as infinite desire is actually infinite fear?

A man dies on the street outside Starbucks, and I think about sex, death, and gratitude.

Life goes on, even when it shouldn’t. Especially when it shouldn’t.

Not all relapses are created equal. Some cost you an hour and a difficult conversation; others cost you your life.