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“I vividly remember watching cartoons as a kid and seeing Bugs Bunny standing on a lily pad, playing ‘Hello My Darling,’ with a banjo in his hand and a drum on his back. I’ve always wanted to play music myself. But it’s so hard to make a living at it. For awhile I was playing the banjo in restaurants. But I couldn’t make it work. So I thought I’d try the Bugs Bunny thing.”
“It was a woman. I don’t even remember her name. But sometimes she’d take me out of my third grade class, and we’d go to her office, and just play with play-doh, or dried beans. I don’t even remember what we talked about. But she helped me find ways to control my anger: stop cussing in class, stop doing off the wall things, stuff like that. I think it was the first time someone ever really tried to help me. When I was a baby, my father got murdered. And sometimes you can’t really talk to your family about nothing. Because there are these sensitive spots and dark places, and maybe they’re hurting too. So people just hold onto stuff. Especially in this neighborhood. Especially males. They walk around with pain on them because it charges them up. They need it so they can have an excuse to lash out and do whatever they want. And I guess some people win on it. But at the end of the day, I’d rather win on being positive. I don’t mind saying how I feel. And I’m not a therapist, but I try to let people around me know that I don’t mind if they share. That if they’re hurting about something, you know, they can call me.“
“My husband hasn’t been home in 153 days. There’s a legal case right now, so I can’t say exactly what happened. But he suffered a catastrophic brain injury in July. And so many of his memories are gone. Some days I’ll go visit him and it just won’t stick. He still remembers my name, but his memories about me are all wrong. Or the details are mixed up. But he’s one hundred percent convinced they’re true. He can’t be corrected. He’s steadfast in his memories. Right now I feel like we’re on two different tracks. I’m just trying to find the places where they merge. He recognized our wedding ring yesterday, even though it was around my neck, that was big for me. It was a moment when our realities came together. Our 45th anniversary is this Saturday. I’m just hoping it will be as normal as possible. I’m going to cook him dinner. Hopefully he’ll eat. And maybe we can share some of the same memories. I’m not sure if that’s enough for me, but it has to be. It has to be enough. Because he’s not going anywhere. And neither am I. We’re in this together.”
“I’d just turned twelve. I think Dad realized that I needed somebody in my life. He was working two jobs so I never had anyone to talk to. Mom wasn’t around. Middle school was a complete disaster. I had no friends and was getting bullied tons. Then one day I came home from school, and Dad was home, which was shocking, because he normally worked until 9 pm. And he introduced me to this guy. I had no clue who he was. He said his name was Adam, and that he was my ‘Big Brother,’ and he was going to help me. But I had no clue what that meant. I just thought it was a friend of my dad’s or something. We were only supposed to meet two times a month. But it ended up being more like three times a week. He helped me study. I could call him whenever I felt sad. And he helped me with my anger outbursts. Whenever I was having a bad day, we’d go to a bridge near his house and throw a bunch of rocks in the creek. He helped me so much over the years. Even after he moved to New York, I was able to do the last two years of high school by myself. He promised me that if I graduated with all B’s, he’d fly me up to New York for a visit. Well I did better than that. I graduated with all A’s and B’s.”
“One of my best friends is getting engaged, and I think she’s making a mistake. I brought it up the other night. We were both a little drunk. And she didn’t get angry, but she told our other friends that I seemed disappointed in her. Maybe I overstepped my bounds. I’ve asked myself if I’m just jealous. Or if I’m trying to bring us back to the place we were: two roommates, watching movies, exploring New York. But I really think my only concern is her happiness. I just don’t think her fiancé ‘gets’ her. He’s a really nice guy. He’s not asking her to change or anything. She’s just not herself when she’s around him. She always seems like she’s about to say one thing, then she’ll pause, and say something else. Like she’s searching for the words that will make her who she needs to be for the relationship to work.”
“I’m going to be watching my nineteen-month-old daughter later. But I just smoked a joint so all I can think about is the buffalo dip in my fridge. She’s going to want to eat it. I’ll have to keep it in the kitchen and run back and forth. I’m just hoping I can stay awake. I discovered an album where Charlie Brown sings classic rock, so for awhile we were listening to Grateful Dead and Queen. But that era’s over. Because she discovered Mom’s pop crap. We’re probably just going to build some sick block castles. Actually I’ll build them, and she’ll knock them over because she loves to watch me freak out. Then I’m praying she’ll take a nap so I can watch the football game. Honestly I don’t even care about the game. It’s just an excuse to eat my buffalo dip.”
peeling a clementine is so easy. it comes so naturally. its inviting… the clementine WANTS to be peeled. its melancholic, sanguine… but an orange? whats an orange but a nuisance… the orange torments and mocks with its brute strength. it exists only to create chaos. next time you decide to indulge in a citrus delight, heed my word. choose the clementine
