Home > Work > The Sounds From the Hills Go Away When the Sun Goes Down
1 " There will never be a shortage of people who tell you what they think you need to hear. But you know better. For them, their forever exists as a low, impenetrable ceiling. But for you, there is only sky. "
― Dave Matthes , The Sounds From the Hills Go Away When the Sun Goes Down
2 " We kissed and pressed up against each other, and I said to her “Ya know, my first kiss I ever had with anyone, it was with a boy, in the back of a school bus at night.” Lotty stopped kissing me for a second. “That’s disgusting,” she said. “What? It’s not like we had much choice in where we did it. Kinda had to sneak around in those days. Get it in when and where we could.” “No, I mean the fact that your first kiss was with a boy.” “What’s wrong with that?” “Boys are gross. "
3 " You’ll see no mercy from this place, kid,” Wendel Trope said, holding on to his bottle in his lap, “you’ve wandered into a tiny sliver of Hell. Fall asleep with your eyes closed and it’ll swallow you hole. Happens to everyone eventually though, it’s not something you can avoid by doing anything with your life differently. I haven’t found it yet, but supposedly there’s something… good about everything,” he laughed at that, drinking, letting the liquid spill out over his lips and onto his shirt, “I dunno, maybe it’s just under the dirt somewhere. Really deep down where they bury all the bodies. "
4 " Fag Bush Betty leaned against the sink and the supports whined under her weight, but she leaned anyway and picked stuff out of her teeth, using the mirror as a reference. She stopped after a few crevices and looked at herself. I’d seen a ton of women give themselves that look to themselves in the mirror before. Those eyes were searching for the answer. The way her eyebrows made her forehead wrinkle up, and her chapped lips and skin that was loose on parts of body gave her a very gaunt texture and appearance. I didn’t need a change of light or a particular aimed luminescence to see the extreme parts of her. I could see her spine, and every bone in it. She turned the faucet on and ran water into her hands, splashing it onto her face and letting the beads run down her cheeks, over the edge of her chin and down beside the veins in her neck. “I do that sometimes too,” I said. She turned her head with her back still facing me. “That, right there, stand above the sink and using the water like that,” I said, “never helps though, but it’s funny how it makes your eyes burn. I’ll take a shower sometimes and get real clean. I’ll wash everything. Later that night I’ll have a freak out and walk over to the sink, same as you, naked as hell. I’ll splash water on my face but still when it gets in my eyes it burns. Like there’s some dirt or sweat that I missed while in the shower. It always happens that way. I can’t seem to get everything, and my eyes just… burn. Sometimes the sweat really makes them sting. And there’s nothing you can really do about it, ya have to let it burn until it washes out. "