Monday, December 08, 2008

Sunday, October 22, 2006


Music was his life. He surrounded himself with it. Now he plays guitar alone in the basement, never realizing that he's just as talented as he always was, maybe more so. He has gone from commanding a stage, forcing everyone to see, to not being able to look me in the eye when we talk. He's ashamed and scared, and I'm ashamed and scared that he's sitting right in front of me and yet I miss him as if he was dead.

I looked up to him. So much of who I am is because of him and now who he is is somehow missing, gone, maybe forever. The scary thing is, I think he remembers how he used to be. I think he misses the old him as much, probably more, than I do. He knows that things have changed and that they will never be the same. When I'm with him I try, but I can only seem to last a few minutes before I feel like I'm going to start crying. The old him would've made fun of me for being such a girl, but who he is now doesn't notice. Or maybe he does notice. Maybe it's just easier to pretend not to see my sadness, my selfishness in missing someone who isn't really gone.

The one who made me love music. The one who made me important by association. The one who hasn't left the house in years but is still more known than me. Gone, in my mind. Does the fact that I think of him as missing make him more so somehow?

Thursday, August 31, 2006


The water feels cool on my feet. We are together but silent. It is a comfortable silence, yet I feel the strangeness of being in a different city, surrounded by people and places I've never seen before. Two girls in old fashioned looking dresses and oddly modern haircuts glide slowly through the water. Children scream and splash around them but somehow sense that the girls are coming and move out of the way, an almost graceful dance. One of these children smiles at me and for the first time I can imagine being a mother. It's a strange feeling, one that I never seem to have or maybe I'm just afraid of thinking it. This place is making me think about things I don't normally think about, and I'm seeing a reflection of someone who doesn't quite seem to be me. Or maybe it is me, maybe I'm seeing a glimpse of who I really am or who I should be, I guess I don't know anymore. The water is cool on my feet and children are screaming. Strange looking girls glide and I am with a friend yet alone.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006


He's sitting there watching them work. Dirty and quiet. Unassuming. Reverent. It's as if he's watching an artist at work rather then some men dumping rock outside a garage. He’s making a memory that I have interrupted, walking by, obscuring his view. We make eye contact and he gives me a slight nod. A gift of acknowledgement to prove that he saw me, that I am forgiven for my intrusion into this moment that was his. Now it has become ours, in a way. I give a faint smile in response, an apology. The quietness of him is still here, hours later. It has wrapped itself around me and made me its own.

Monday, July 24, 2006


A muffin tin.
A package of jell-o instant banana pudding.
A newspaper. Everyday, a newspaper.

You think it's mine despite the fact that I don't get the newspaper. Maybe it's all mine, left with the express purpose of me finding it. Maybe I'm missing the connection I have with these things sitting at the bottom of my stairs, and with the person leaving them. I never even see anyone on those stairs, except when I come to let you in or when we leave together. I never hear the hallway door close, except when I close it behind me. I used to hear the back door slam each morning, but they fixed it so that it drifts quietly shut, leaving me in peace.

Now I hear murmuring in the alley outside my bedroom window. I hear the zombies in the dumpster. I see these things on my staircase and the things left outside to be taken or trashed. I never take them but am somehow sad when they are gone. Maybe they are mine. Maybe I'm creating a scenario in my sleep, sleepwalking, sleepleaving things to keep myself entertained and interested. So I'll have something to talk, write and think about. To distract myself from the routine. To make me figure out when I got lost. Or maybe so I don't have to think about what's really on my mind.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Big ridiculous things

I was walking to work this morning, rocking some Zombies on the iPod. It wasn't too hot yet and I was enjoying my walk. I was waiting to cross the street and this guy pulls up in a HUGE ridiculous truck. Then, get this, he revs his engine at me! It was hilarious. I seriously couldn't stop laughing after he pulled away. I mean really, did he think I was going to be impressed that his giant gas-guzzler could make that much noise? I have to admit that I was awed that guys in big ridiculous trucks actually think that that kind of thing turns the ladies on.

Speaking of big ridiculous things, I have these huge silly sunglasses that I've been wearing around. They were an impulse buy at the Target and they are dumb but I love them. Anyway, I've noticed that when I wear them, people don't recognize me. It's awesome! I was walking to lunch the other day and I passed three people I've worked with for years. I said hi to all of them and only got blank looks in response. It's a total secret identity, like I'm Clark Kent or some shit.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Sandwiches! Part 2

Man Eats 47 Cheese Sandwiches In 10 min.

(AP) LAS VEGAS There's a rising star on the competitive eating circuit. California man Joey Chestnut downed 47 grilled cheese sandwiches in ten minutes this weekend in Las Vegas to set a world record. That's eleven more sandwiches than the old record of 36.

Last month, Chestnut ate 50 hot dogs. Some say he's a threat to the reigning champ of food stuffing, Japan's Takeru Kobayashi.

Chestnut won the grilled cheese contest sponsored by the International Federation of Competitive Eating, the same group that runs the annual Fourth of July hot dog eating contest at New York's Coney Island.


If there is ever a lull in the conversation, just bring up sandwiches. Slanger, Klanger, Sam and I were doing it all weekend and it WORKED EVERY TIME! I'm not kidding, give it a try.

Soooo, how's it going? I like grilled cheese.