“Book Descriptions: Sentimental means holding onto things forever. Dreaming never hurt anyone. Dark, funny, titillating, fulfilling, endless; a post-lit fairy tale. Autumn in the Pain House. An erotic character study. A self-portrait. Romantic love that yearns and stalks. Disrespects your boundaries. A detox from idealization. Love gone bitter and the lust it’s soaked in. Sticky fingers plucking flippant melancholia. Touch starved winter. Getting something is never as satisfying as wanting it and the Mind Palace is a place of desire. The wildly popular perennial type of sacrificial love by which two broken people come to save each other. The thing that destroys kingdoms. And in doing so proposes a spiritual love through art, regeneration. It’s about sex and love. It’s about addiction. The bondage of codependency and possession. It gives voice to distinctly masculine archetypes. The only solution is feminism. Psychosexual. Queer. Perverted. Pure Michigan, haunted by New York and LA. Erotomania. A book that could only have been made in the greatest country on earth. A courtly meat and potatoes of foreplay and aphrodisia. Big, raw emotions, haunted affinity, mind games, apps, valentines. Tiny girls, tired girls, supplication and adoration, forgiveness and redemption. Seduction, a hangover, the miracle of incompleteness. An entropic throatless song of appetency in a one-man tabernacle, homesickness for an armpit. All the parties in the world still won’t bring you back. Butterflies in the stomach. Old as medieval Russia. Forsake your duty and die for this. A dispatch from the hot-blooded white picket fence delirium collapsing with our values. The divine spark, the sacral thrust, the libidinal moan, a corrosion of the commonplace through the exacting conformity of monogamy. Addictive and possibly soul harming.” DRIVE
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