#thisbe nissen

[imnotinittowinit]

Because the best way to get someone to want something is to tell them they can't want it.

Thisbe Nissen, The Good People of New York

[mavirtute]

...sadness is like resignation; it's a giving up. And you don't cry when you give up. You don't make a big production. You just walk away quietly, hoping no one will notice until you're already gone.

Thisbe Nissen, “When the Rain Washes You Clean You’ll Know”

[witandfancy]

Short Story Break: “When the Rain Washes You Clean You’ll Know” by Thisbe Nissen | Wit & Fancy

[mavirtute]

Love is an entity unto itself. There are patches of it all over the place. It's not really tangible, but it's there, pools of it. Blue pockets, swirling like eddies. People don't meet because they both like Burmese food, or because someone's sister has a friend who's single and new in town, or because Billy's nose happened to crook just slightly to the left at an angle that made me want to weep . . . People don't fall in love with each other . . . They just fall in love.

Thisbe Nissen, “Accidental Love”

[spoutoff]

And these girls—all of them, with their sly come-hither stares, their 'you want me you come get me' looks, or that dead-on frozen glare that says 'in your dreams, asshole'—they turn away then, out of the girls' room and into the night, and what they know, or don't know—and maybe that's the crux and the tragedy of it all right there—is that they may be saying 'you piece of shit bastard you think you can fuck me.' But at the same time, they're saying 'I'll let you.' In the same breath they're saying 'you can.'

Thisbe Nissen, Out of the Girls' Room and into the Night

[quietallure]

People leap off buildings. They jump off subway platforms, off bridges, into the Hudson River. But they don't leap under the delusion that anyone's going to be there to catch them. In this city, nobody'd even clean up the mess on the sidewalk. Drew thinks he knows what Maud must feel like. It's as if she's walking along the street. Suddenly, from high above, someone is calling to her. Such an embarrassing lack of suicidal decorum: this guy standing on a window ledge shouting, "Hey you! You down there! You with the mushrooms . . . The blond! Yes, you with the beautifully crooked nose. You! I'm going to jump, and I want you to catch me. No one else. Just you. You're the . . . one, two, three, ready or not here I come . . ." And she could just keep walking, look away, pretend she hasn't heard, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were speaking to me. Continue along on her way through the city of strangers. Or she can stand there on the sidewalk and open her arms.

Thisbe Nissen, Out of the Girls' Room and Into the Night

[typefasterblog-blog]

Rockabye baby, on the bookshelf...

Photo of Sonne Niscorvosen, son of writers Jay Baron Nicorvo and Thisbe Nissen, taken by his proud papa.