Someday we’ll talk about us, but today is not that day.… more
Someday we’ll talk about us, but today is not that day.… more
I just started talking to myself. I’m not sure it’s a good thing.… more
I have a ritual before I get my haircut. I take off my nail polish. Earrings have to come off, too. The rainbow lanyard that hangs from my pocket must stay inside my car. Most importantly, my voice must get deeper. Queer folks aren’t as welcome in these parts. Only the manly men. Only the straight men.… more
Today my eyes are filled with drywall dust. The gypsum fire deterrent bonded by thin cardboard breaks easily with the prying crowbar. The new house gutted and needing more work than expected; holes in the sheathing from pests and soggy with water damage. I just wanted something to go our way, for once, Amy says.… more
He’s trying to hold me. He’s trying to comfort me. He’s trying to force me into his lap. He’s grabbing at me. He’s clutching me. He’s forcing his comfort, his support, onto me, severely and earnestly.… more
In the voice of this charismatic stranger, basketball is a mystical game you can control before the ball is even in your hands. There’s a way of feeling out the court, of knowing where to stand. He generously shares his knowledge with me, as though, like the sun and the stars, it belongs to everyone.… more
…bookishness and cultivation, so treasured by those who possess them, are no guarantee of human value…. Nobody is a more worth-while person for having read Yeats. – Anthony Lane I scratch notes for a piece to describe a social divide I experienced as a child in a factory town in Rhode Island. I… more
Everyone has their own tolerance and focus with how to stay connected during the last two years, or as we say Post Pandemic (are we ever, truly?) With masks and vaccines or not, and travel dribbling away, parties and gatherings somehow obsolete, many of us, myself included spent more time, not less, on social media,… more
Fight #1 My first fight was with this guy on our block who didn’t have any friends his own age. He was always hanging around the younger kids, teaching us to smoke, swear and vandalize. He liked to talk about sex, too. One time he asked me what the nastiest thing I ever saw was.… more
I feel the voices of a million women surging up in song. Their pain rings across the bony beaches, across the centuries. I feel their projections on me, their hopes and fears. But I’m not strong enough. I cast them to the side, where they fill the air with sorrow.… more