Jordan Castillo Price Quotes

My waking life probably gave my subconscious an inferiority complex.

If everything were anything," Chance said softly, "the barriers would break down, and we'd all lose ourselves to chaos. And then there would be no cotton candy.

He was nuts. He'd scammed the quarterly mental health exam and was certifiably insane.
Not that that's ever stopped me from sleeping with anyone.

We'll need you to unlock your desk, sir."
"Sorry," Dreyfuss said. "Not until I've read this form."
"You haven't ... looked at it."
"And I'm a very slow reader. Sometimes I wonder if I'm dyslexic.

The news was its usual discouraging self - people in Chicago can't help but shoot at each other, and we only hear about the ones who didn't miss.

We lingered there for just one more moment, and held each other, and savored the feeling of wanting and being wanted. Loving, and being loved.

Or you can fake your own death," Bill suggested.
"Because really, that's the most cathartic resolution - if all your friends and family think you're dead. Everyone cries, they have a little rant about all your potential going to waste, they put on a memorial service and you can hide and see who bothers to come - and if you're really lucky, they bury an empty coffin. When they couldn't even be bothered to spot you a twenty 'til payday. You know how much booze you could buy for the cost of a single coffin?

...knowing often felt preferable to not knowing. It provided the illusion of control.

Crash took a long drag off his cigarette and gave me a smug little smile. He always looked smug. His hair was dyed Kool-Aid green. Maybe that's what he was looking smug about today, despite the fact that it clashed with his olive drab army duster. Or maybe he knew my ass stung with every step I took- either because he was an empath who hot "feelings" about what everyone was experiencing, or because he'd taken it up the ass from Jacob himself. Crash's smirk widened and I looked away. One day I'd probably slap him. And then I'd regret it, because he was probably into stuff like that.

Blakewood had a collection of miniature furniture with Scotty dogs painted on it, arranged on a semicircular shelf int he corner. Yeah. He was queer.

Oh, hey," I said, "This is Roger, my new partner. Roger, this is Jacob, my, uh ... " God, could there be a worse word than "boyfriend?" It made us sound like Barbie and Ken. Or Ken and Ken. Or Ken and G.I. Joe. I told my mind to stop stalling and think of a way to say it. "My partner ... at home

I looked at my spices again. Salt for protection, cinnamon to enhance psychic ability, and pepper to drive away evil. I figured I should start with the cinnamon.
My first impulse was to snort it.

A psycho murderer who lubed. How considerate.

Self-esteem. That's one of those catch-all terms that means nothing at all, but the mere mention of it leaves all the socially conscious liberal types nodding sagely and scratching their chins.

I'll be fast. I can make you come in two minutes."
"I can do that myself. I never get to see you anymore- I'd rather talk to you"
That had to be the most romantic things anyone had ever said to me, and I went all gooshy inside.

If life's taught me anything, it's that you might as well eat your dessert first, 'cos the ceiling might fall in before you're even done with the salad.

I'd gone my whole life with people expecting things I didn't seem capable of giving, so why should now be any different?

Back when I was a two-handed bastard, I made the sheep of the population nervous by skulking around in my badass facial hardware and projecting the fact that I didn't give a shit.

I really hate threesomes when one of the participants is dead.

I've got more talent than everyone on their payroll put together," I said. Jacob squeezed me tighter. His eyes never moved from mine. "I'm so far beyond level five it's not even funny.

Say something," he said.

"What?" I mumbled, struggling to orient myself. "What?"

"Can you hear me? What day is it? Who's the president?"

"Yes, I don't know, and a horse's ass.

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Do you sell anything that can answer a yes or no question?" I asked him.
"For entertainment purposes," he asked me not bothering to look up, "or for real?"
I squelched the impulse to scream, "What do you think, you jackass?" Maybe he was asking a serious question- though I had my doubts. "You're the one with the metaphysical shop. If I wanted a magic Eight Ball, I'd go to SaverPlus."
He looked up at me and grinned. "Did you notice the new guy who works at the return counter in the SaverPlus basement?He's kind of a creep- which I think I like about him- and he's got this monster bulge in his pants."
I could totally see him getting into someone who was a creep. "Um. No."
"They're still open. Why don't you go buy a Magic Eight Ball so I can return it?"
"No."
"Then what the fuck good are you?

"Your heart is in your chest. It supplies the blood to your cells. Even if you don't think about it, your heart is always pumping. The heart is the most important organ in the body. Without it, you will die.
"'What grade are you teaching these days?' Joel asked. ' Because either this is really sad ... or really profound.

The mall at Christmastime was not for the faint of heart. I overloaded about thirty yards in.

I've never liked the word team. I've always equated it with being picked last and getting nailed in the groin with a dodgeball.

The past is only a memory. Memories have no power to hurt you.

The perfect quote sprang to mind, but I resisted saying it under my breath, since Jonathan would hear. I couldn't even mouth the words, since for all I knew, he'd hear my lips moving. So I conjured up a vision of the Tin Man and let him say it for me in my head. Now I know I've got a heart. I can feel it breaking.

The kitchen guy wheeled out the tray of lunches. The salmon looked too fancy for institutional food, more at par with something Jacob would have cooked up at home as a way of saying, I'm sorry I stood you up at that party where all my friends were flexing so hard you could barely fit in the room with their delts.

Jacob went to the sink and held his hands under the tap. He splashed cold water on his face and formed another ab-flashing maneuver that would bring every card-carrying queer to his knees.

You don't have to be psychic to end up knowing things you were a lot happier not knowing.

You shot heroin in the bathroom while I was disinfecting the kitchen. Didn't you?"
"Of course not." He pulled on his gloves and led the way into the building. "I hatched from a pod and hid the real Jonathan under the floorboards."
"You're much less creepy when you're pensive and focused. Just so you know.

I rolled up my sleeve. Penned on my arm in my own writing: If I prove I'm not selfish, Daniel will love me.

Gee, I wasn't as up on my Native American traditions as the chick who used to call herself Faun fucking Windsong even though she was fifteen sixteenths as lily-white as me. Imagine that.

No wonder I worried about talking dirty; talking in general seemed to escape me.

What the fuck happened to you? [...] You look like you lost a fight with a lamprey. Hickey, hickey...bruise, bruise, bruise...bite. I thought that thing on your neck the other day was just a fluke. I guess not--looks like you get off on picking up a few souvenirs when you...get off. ~Crash