The narrator is of two minds about the men he (or she?) usually ends up killing.

(from Tin House, vol. 6, number 3)

Within the confines of its very familar genre (the ol’ first person inside the mind of the maniac killer who’s all sexed up and confused), this story is original enough to make it memorable and distinguish it from others somewhat like it. It might even be super super original, if my one theory is actually true. That the narrator and all the men are hamsters. It’s not a perfect fit, but it would explain so very much.

Today I bought this, my first copy of Tin House. It’s their “obsession” themed issue. I also bought Black Clock #3, even though I’ve barely touched #2, because it’s so very pretty and because I’m just buying a lot of things which contain stories. Too many, even for somebody who reads a short story a day (or tries to).
Then I saw The Mountain Goats, my favorite band.

I hopped on back of the bike
wrapped my arms around you
and I sank my face into your hair
and then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could
you were as sweet and delicious as the warm desert air
and you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon,
we were the one thing in the galaxy god didn’t have his eyes on
900 CCs of raw whining power,
no outstanding warrants for my arrest.
hi diddle dee dee
god damn!
the pirate’s life for me!