“Chris’s willowy fingers dug into his thighs and hers closed over his ears and he

stopped hearing the soup sound of her mouth and felt the brief pain of her teeth
nipping the drawn foreskin and the throb of his groin pumping the teeming fluid
into her throat, stopping her gentle voice and dripping from her chords that sung
the music of her lonely heart. Her hair lay athwart in clean strands on his body and
for the next silent minute he was the sanest man on earth, bled of his seed, rid of
his mind.”
― J.P. Donleavy, The Ginger Man

“Dear Mr Skully,

I have caught my neck in a mangle and will be indisposed for eternity.

Yours in death
S.D.”
― J.P. Donleavy, The Ginger Man

“Ginny Cupper took me in her car out to the spread fields of Indiana. Parking near
the edge of woods and walking out into the sunny rows of corn, waving seeds to a
yellow horizon. She wore a white blouse and a gray patch of sweat under her arms
and the shadow of her nipples was gray. We were rich. So rich we could never die.
Ginny laughed and laughed, white saliva on her teeth lighting up the deep red of
her mouth, fed the finest food in the world. Ginny was afraid of nothing. She was
young and old. Her brown arms and legs swinging in wild optimism, beautiful in
all their parts. She danced on the long hood of her crimson Cadillac, and watching
her, I thought that God must be female. She leaped into my arms and knocked me
to the ground and screamed into my mouth.”
― J.P. Donleavy, The Ginger Man

Holding back the hunchbacked predator who lost his mind and cut of his ear.
Keeping him at bay with collected mosses, books, birds, technologies and the
paintings on the walls Side swiping, stepping, swerving the guts and blood
slaughterhouse of me, him, my destiny’s shove and piggy nuzzle.
You can see God’s face in these things that please and look away with fearful calm.