I know that guy at the end, there, Scott says. Hmmm, I respond, hoping that this is recognized as coded language that equates to-nobody cares. The irony is that I care about most things. I care about too many things, but in this moment, I don’t want to talk about the bald-headed dude with thick, black plastic… Continue reading Sushi, Ya?
POSTS
Pockets of Space.
Perusing Instagram, my attention got stuck on a post about sisters. Specifically, sisters with radically different lives. One sister with a husband and children and one, single and fancy free. This didn’t feel like an accident, as yesterday I stumbled across a post about the grief of parenthood not coming to fruition. The idea that… Continue reading Pockets of Space.
Frozen Treats.
I roll the grape between my pointer finger and thumb, feeling the icy exterior softening enough to be painlessly crushed between my teeth. On another night, not dissimilar to this one, I noticed that the grapes have a smell. A freezer smell. I clean the small space relentlessly and still; there’s a pervasive odor of… Continue reading Frozen Treats.
The Hill of Lost Opportunities.
Man, today sucked. I know- what an intro. But it’s true. We had some shit go down at work and I’m feeling heavy. I won’t get into it, but it’s amazing how transformative any version of grief is, isn’t it? I imagine you might be thinking: ‘of course!’ P.S. I didn’t use duh because that… Continue reading The Hill of Lost Opportunities.
Did you read about Kohen?
Did you read about Kohen Wiley? I ask. Who? Danny replies. Kohen Wiley, I say, more emphatically, as if that might change her answer. This is absurd, I recognize. I was in the neurologist’s office yesterday and a woman was there with her elderly mother, and she was doing exactly what I’m doing now. Her… Continue reading Did you read about Kohen?
Sometimes, all you need is a win.
A few days ago, I was sitting, staring at my phone, fingers hovering above the Paypal icon. Should I? No. I shouldn’t, I decided. I swiped up on the screen, careful not to inadvertently submit anything resembling payment, and closed out the window. I don’t need a Knicks t-shirt, even if it’s vintage (love me… Continue reading Sometimes, all you need is a win.
Run, run little girl.
It’s hot out. Hotter than I realized it would be. Spending most lunch hours leaning over my keyboard, I don’t expend a lot of energy wondering about the midday weather. I didn’t have the energy to run this morning and so, I decided to leave it to now. Running later is an option, but that… Continue reading Run, run little girl.
Sometimes, it’s just crappy.
There’s this thing people do, I’ve found. This thing where they try and contextualize and compare your pain. They think that explaining how others have suffered in a similar fashion will somehow radically change your feelings. It doesn’t though, not really. I mean, it does in the sense that you can avoid some level of… Continue reading Sometimes, it’s just crappy.
Hot Mess Express.
My brain tracks the bead of sweat as it travels from the nape of my neck, down my spine, and finds a home in the lower region of my thin cotton tank. The dampness of my tank is almost indistinguishable from the veritable pool I’ve accumulated by the waist of my skirt. I press my… Continue reading Hot Mess Express.
A Hairy Situation.
I stare at the piece of hair. I’ve seen so many pieces of my hair detached from my head over the years. Curly, dyed strands wrapped around stubborn hair elastics and plastic nubbed brush bristles. But now, I gaze at the long, dark wet strand plastered to my tiled shower wall. It feels complete in… Continue reading A Hairy Situation.
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