Quotes by Alex Bosworth

It’s not easy balancing a career, a family and a healthy outlook on life, which is why I don’t.

Ive seen enough family photos in enough homes to know that the term suitable for framing should have a stricter definition.

One day, back when I working at a video store, a woman accompanied by her two small sons walked up the counter with a tape box displaying a man slicing off someone’s head with a chainsaw. “Does this have any sex in it?” she asked. In my mind, it was like I was narrating a nature documentary on humans. “Watch as the American mother protects her young ones from dangerous influences.

Sure, Id like a child of my own. Id also like a laser pistol, that doesnt mean someone should give me one.

Whatever I haven’t accomplished biologically obviously wasnt all that imperative.

I stared out at the waves. Why am I here? I thought. Finally it came to me. But it was too late. I was a terrible lifeguard.

There are many ways to roll with the punches. Still, it’s probably best to avoid people who punch you.

Lately, Ive become sort of a fatalist. Well, that was bound to happen.

My parents would not permit ugly language in the house, which was okay with me. I didnt want to learn German anyway.

Most people thought he was insane when he looked up into the sky with a simple handmade telescope and cried out that the Earth revolves around the Sun, because this was four years ago.

Have you ever suddenly realized its someone elses mood swing and youre just along for the ride?

Every time I write about life, I must kill and eat the actual event. I mean to say that my words are scavengers who need to devour lifeless substance if they are to survive as non-fiction. The event is dead, it ceased to be as soon as it happened. The closest I can come to resurrecting the past is to feed my memories to a ravenous swarm of sentences, punctuation and paragraphs. They chew up and digest the things I remember, producing a waste product I think of as an honest account. Reality suffers a second death through this process. False memories, both organic and manufactured, erase the genuine article in order to reassemble the factors into a serviceable construct. True story.

Twenty years ago, chaos theory was all the rage. I wonder what happened with that. Maybe all the excitement over it become so organized that its initial entropy failed to fall apart and disintegrate into nothingness leaving its proponents re-illusioned in certainty. I remember seeing an employee at a local book store arranging a subsection for literature about chaos among the science books. There’s the problem. I thought. How can there be a chaos section? Those books should be distributed randomly throughout the store... that is, if there was any real disorder to things.

I had to break up with Medusa. I just got sick of buying mice for her hair. I should have ended it sooner, but you try looking into those eyes.