Joey Comeau
Canadian writer.
I had a shirt made up that says, "I consistently make poor life choices." The shirt was not very popular.
...There’s a romance to danger. There’s a romance to drinking, to drugs, to petty crime and to heartbreak and loneliness. All of those things can be used to make the STORY of our lives better.
When the end comes, I hope it’s as strange as that. I hope that the sky tears open and the world is washed with colors that we’ve never seen before.
We need a new Mario game where you rescue the princess in the first ten minutes, and for the rest of the game you try to push down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you she's "damaged goods," a concept detailed again and again in the profoundly sex-negative instruction booklet, and when Luigi makes a crack about her and Bowser, you break his nose and immediately regret it. Peach asks you, in the quiet of her mushroom castle bedroom, "Do you still love me?" and you pretend to be asleep. You press A button rhythmically, to control your breath, to keep even.
The world needs balance, and if I have to be unbalanced to supply it then so be it.
I never wanted anything to happen to my parents, but a hero needs an origin story.
...You'll never find someone calling A Softer World good natured. I don't think we do a completely bleak comic, but good natured just isn't a way you could ever describe it. Or my novels. Not the way I want.
There are plenty of fish in the sea, if I run out of women.
I have a form of ESP that allows me to consistently pick losing lottery numbers, and generally make poor life choices.
Alzheimer’s disease is death before death, and I’m terrified of it.
I'm tired of the moral high ground. We've already got more than our share of Gandhis in "the movement". We need a General Patton. No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor bastard die for HIS country.
Well, it's possible to be mentally ill and rational.
I feel the way bank robbers must feel before they go out on that last job that ends up getting them all killed. That is to say, optimistic.
If at first you don't succeed...run.
Fuck politics. I just want to burn shit down.
Her face is bent out of shape, but still recognizable. There are too many teeth in her mouth, now. It is torn open at the sides. Split along her cheeks, so the weird jagged stones of her teeth can breathe.
Live for today you retarded little shit. The end is near.
Be the trouble you want to see in the world.
My other pro-tolerance message is also condescending.
Now, I recognize that these are very real possibilities." I said. "But let's pretend for a second that they aren't.