Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Parents are always more knowledgeable than their children, and children are always smarter than their parents.

I did not need to know if he could love me.
I needed to know if he could need me.

The end of suffering does not justify the suffering

'I'm not smarter than you. I'm more knowledgeable than you, and that's only because I'm older than you

Even though Dad's coffin was empty, his closet was full

‘You’re sick?’
‘I’m sad.’
‘About Dad?’
‘About everything.’ She sat down on the bed next to me, even though I knew she was in a hurry. ‘What’s everything?’ I started counting on my fingers: ‘The meat and dairy products in our refrigerator, fistfights, car accidents, Larry—’
‘Who’s Larry?’
‘The homeless guy in front of the Museum of Natural History who always says ‘I promise it’s for food’ after he asks for money.’ She turned around and I zipped her dress while I kept counting. ‘How you don’t know who Larry is, even though you probably see him all the time, how Buckminster just sleeps and eats and goes to the bathroom and has no raison d’être, the short ugly guy with no neck who takes tickets at the IMAX theater, how the sun is going to explode one day, how every birthday I always get at least one thing I already have, poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it’s cheaper…’ That was when I ran out of fingers, but my list was just getting started, and I wanted it to be long, because I knew she wouldn’t leave while I was still going. ‘…domesticated animals, how I have a domesticated animal, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day because no one remembers to spend time with them and they’re embarrassed to ask people to spend time with them, secrets, dial phones, how Chinese waitresses smile even when there’s nothing funny or happy, and also how Chinese people own Mexican restaurants but Mexican people never own Chinese restaurants, mirrors, tape decks, my unpopularity at school, Grandma’s coupons, storage facilities, people who don’t know what the Internet is, bad handwriting, beautiful songs, how there won’t be humans in fifty years—’
‘Who said there won’t be humans in fifty years?’ I asked her, ‘Are you an optimist or a pessimist?’ She looked at her watch and said, ‘I’m optimistic.’
‘Then I have some bad news for you, because humans are going to destroy each other as soon as it becomes easy enough to, which will be very soon.’
‘Why do beautiful songs make you sad?’
‘Because they aren’t true.’
‘Never?’
‘Nothing is beautiful and true.’

‘Nothing is beautiful and true.’ She smiled, but in a way that wasn’t just happy, and said, ‘You sound just like Dad.’
‘What do you mean I sound just like Dad?’
‘He used to say things like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, like nothing is so-and-so. Or everything is so-and-so. Or obviously.’ She laughed. ‘He was always very definitive.’
‘What’s ‘definitive’?’
‘It means certain. It comes from ‘definite.’
‘What’s wrong with definitivety?’
‘Dad sometimes missed the forest for the trees.’
‘What forest?’
‘Nothing.’

I kept thinking about how they were all the names of dead people, and how names are basically the only thing that dead people keep.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that the vast majority of the universe is composed of dark matter. The fragile balance depends on things we'll never be able to see, hear, smell, taste, or touch. Life itself depends on them. What's real? What isn't real? Maybe those aren't the right questions to be asking. What does life depend on?

I wish I had made things for life to depend on.

"Where were you? I was worried." I told him, "I found the lock."

"You found it?" I nodded. "And?"

I didn't know what to say. I found it and now I can stop looking? I found it and it had nothing to do with Dad? I found it and now I'll wear heavy boots for the rest of my life?