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So in the second year of Mark’s mourning he endured humiliations. He went to bars. He tried to talk to women. It was horrible. He was almost thirty years old! In a college town like Syracuse, they had a name for people like Mark, and it wasn’t “graduate student in the department of history.” It was…

The Buck Fuck Bus disturbed Mark’s equilibrium. It wasn’t that he wanted to operate his own porn site, exactly; he was fairly certain that was not why he’d let Sasha go. And the anonymity of the filmed and very graphic sex did not appeal to him—it was the only site to which he ever subscribed, and …

“Right. I just can’t get over how programmed it all feels. It’s like right now”—Sam looked at his watch, it was almost midnight, any minute now Katie would announce that she had an early flight; he needed to suggest that they go home, but he couldn’t figure out how!—“all across America, diligent me…

It took balls to do what he did because if he failed—and he had failed—he’d end up where he was. He hadn’t accomplished the things of which he’d dreamed, and now he couldn’t even get done the very basic things that most adults did—like pay his bills, for example (a most unpleasant form letter—and p…

No, no, that wasn’t it, exactly. It was more as if life, the life he’d known, had begun to seem so slippery to him. Who could say what had happened and what it had meant? There’d been so much drinking! He had been close to people—but not quite close enough; and he had given himself to people, but n…