I would never say snog. I would say osculate." She looks at me as... by Joe Dunthorne

I would never say snog. I would say osculate." She looks at me as if to say: why do you exist?

Joe Dunthorne

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Categorized in : Looks Ifs Look At Me

I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.

most-romantic beautiful love

I love you more than words. And I am a big fan of words. by Joe Dunthorne

I love you more than words. And I am a big fan of words.

Oh diary, I love her, I love her, I love her so much. Jordana is the most amazing person I have ever met. I could eat her. I could drink her blood. She's the only person I would allow to be shrunk to microscopic size and explore me in a tiny submersible machine. She is wonderful and beautiful and sensitive and funny and sexy. She's too good for me, she's too good for anyone! All I could do was let her know. I said: "I love you more than words. And I am a big fan of words.

sexy love-you beautiful

My mother tells me I do not chew my food enough; she says I am making it harder for my body to get the essential nutrients it needs. If she were here, I would remind her that I am eating a blueberry Pop-Tart.

essentials mother needs

For my last birthday, Dad bought me a pocket-sized Collins English Dictionary. It would only fit in a pocket that had been specially designed.

pockets dad lasts

There will be birds and if they write your name in the sky then you can get on the buses and if they don't you have to die on the floor.

names sky writing

After that, we had a short conversation about how your body can sometimes seem totally separate. She said her body can feel like a distant bureaucracy controlled by telegrams from her brain, and I said my body is sometimes like that of Mario Mario, being controlled with a Nintendo joypad. Mario's surname is Mario.

nintendo body brain

I find that the only way to get through life is to picture myself in an entirely disconnected reality.

life-is reality way

Write a diary, imagining that you are trying to make an old perso... by Joe Dunthorne

Write a diary, imagining that you are trying to make an old person jealous.

jealous writing trying

I was camped at the same site as her: Broughton Farm. She came over to my tent and showed me her blisters. She asked me whether I knew the reason why a blister can keep on producing fluid ad infinitum. I said that I had always wondered the same thing about mucus. One of the reasons we are together is because we have similar interests.

tents together reason-why

...I want to grab her collarbones as if they were handlebars. by Joe Dunthorne

...I want to grab her collarbones as if they were handlebars.

It is strange to hear your mother talk about being human because,... by Joe Dunthorne

It is strange to hear your mother talk about being human because, honestly, it's too easy to forget.

strange mother forget

Depression comes in bouts. Like boxing. Dad is in the blue corner... by Joe Dunthorne

Depression comes in bouts. Like boxing. Dad is in the blue corner.

dad boxing blue

Anger does not come easy to me. It is something I have to encourage, like a greyhound in second place.

greyhounds easy doe

That's a big love letter," she says, squinting. I know what I'm going to say and for a moment I wish there was a film crew documenting my day-to-day life: "I've got a big heart," I say.

squinting wish heart

To us and a wonderful evening of love making. by Joe Dunthorne

To us and a wonderful evening of love making.

love-making evening wonderful

I don't know if I've come of age, but I'm certainly older now. I feel shrunken, as if there's a tiny ancient Oliver Tate inside me operating the levers of a life-size Oliver-shaped shell. A shell on which a decrepit picture show replays the same handful of images. Every night I come to the same place and wait till the sky catches up with my mood. The pattern is set. This is, no doubt, the end.

waiting sky night

I find that the only way to get through life is to picture myself in an entirely disconnected reality. I often imagine how people would react to my death. Mr Dunthorne's quavering voice as he makes the announcement. The shocked faces of my classmates. A playground bedecked with flowers. The empty stillness of a school corridor. Local news analysis. . . . The steady stoicism of my parents. . . . Candlelit vigils. . . . And finally, my glorious resurrection.

flower reality school

Most people think of themselves as individuals, that there's no one on the planet like them. This thought motivates them to get out of bed, eat food and walk around like nothing's wrong.

names people thinking

I spin around on the swivel chair and look up at the ceiling; Oliver being Oliver being Oliver being Oliver. I am suddenly aware of the separation between my-actual-self and myself-as-seen-by-others. Who would win in an arm wrestle? Who is better-looking? Who has the higher IQ?

ceilings self winning