Why did you punch him?” she asked. “He was bullying me.” “You should have just walked away.” “He called me ‘chief.’ And ‘squaw boy.’ ” “Then you should have kicked him in the balls.
My parents sold blood for money to buy food. Poverty was our spirit animal.
When people consider the meaning of genocide, they might only think of corpses being pushed into mass graves. But a person can be genocided – can have every connection to his past severed – and live to be an old man whose rib cage is a haunted house built around his heart.
I really miss those cafeterias they use to have in Kmart. I don’t know why they stopped having those. If there is a Heaven then I firmly believe it’s a Kmart cafeteria.
We all justify our sins, venal or mortal.
He was like some kind of Star Wars alien creature with invisible tentacles that sucked your thoughts out of your brain.
I declared a truce with her, at least within myself. Or maybe it’s only a partial truce because a half-truce is really just a surrender, right?
We order Diet since my father and I are both diabetic. Genetics, you know?
He was the loser Indian father of a loser Indian son living in a world built for winners.
Like the coffin was settling down for a long, long nap, for a forever nap.
Everybody prayed; everybody lied about it. Even atheists prayed on airplanes and bingo nights.
So, back in the day, weird people threatened the strength of the tribe. If you weren’t good for making food, shelter, or babies, then you were tossed out on your own.” “But we’re not primitive like that anymore.” “Oh, yes, we are. Weird people still get banished.” “You mean weird people like.
We are all given one thing by which our lives are measured, one determination. Mine are the stories which can change or not change the world. It doesn’t matter which as long as I continue to tell the stories.
Zsa Zsa was charismatic in the banal and voracious way that reality stars like Kim Kardashian are charismatic now.
Political Correctness has forced racists to become poets.
The professor ignored Lynn’s comments and proceeded with his lecture.
I didn’t know what to do or say, so I just sat as quietly as he did. The silence got so big and real that it felt like three people sat on the porch.
Sharon was Apache, and I was Spokane, but we practiced our tribal religions like we practiced Catholicism: We loved all of the ceremonies but thought they were pitiful cries to a disinterested god.
Nobody knew the truth. Of course, you can’t lie forever. Lies have short shelf lives. Lies go bad.
I wanted to live up to expectations. I guess that’s what it comes down to. The power of expectations. And.