Thursday, June 30, 2011

It's better

For Sam. An old old one, but a good one. From the archives
(Nolita playground smoking a cigarette)

I’d go crazy. I would go absolutely insane. No smoking, or alcohol, or anything. Can you imagine David with a baby. I mean he’d totally be smoking pot around the kid. Not cigarettes but pot. He’d be a good Dad. I mean my kid would be reading Proust at bedtime.. But I would go insane. You know how I crave things now. I’d be like ‘Babe, get me icecream and salami’. I’d feed my little jewish baby icecream and salami. And David would be all about my pregnant belly, and want to fuck me all the time. Like hold on to it. And that’s just weird. He’ll probably be turned on by it, he’s turned on by everything. No really…he’s turned on by my B.O.
And I’d like to think I’d be a cute pregnant woman. You know with the little belly. But really I saw my mom with Alex, I’m going to be gargantuan. I am going to be a fat assed, bloated wide faced, messy pregnant woman. I’m really going to just look like a fat person. That’s the whole point of being pregnant, you have an excuse to be fat, and people congratulate you on it. I mean people shouldn’t have other people.
Maybe that’s irresponsible, but .They aren’t even people. I mean kids. They don’t know anything. You have to teach them everything. They’re like little naked aliens running around. What’s this? Why does this happen? And I don’t know. I don’t know why anything does or doesn’t happen. I don’t know why this happened. I don’t even know what I want for dinner. Are you hungry? I just… I don’t know. And I guess my parents didn’t know either but things were different then. You remember those paper fortune tellers you used to make. Like you’d fold the paper and fill the inside with yes or no, or like numbers on the outside. And I used to always ask the fortune teller what age I’d be when I’d have a baby, and I’d get so excited when I got 28. For whatever weird reason that just seemed right to me, seemed like adult age to me. Like this magic age, My mom was 25 when she had me. And maybe she wasn’t ready, maybe she just had to be. I mean thank god you know, because it just wouldn’t be right…right now. I know I’ll probably get knocked up and he’ll have to marry me (she laughs) but right now it’s good.,better it didn’t happen.

Thursday, June 23, 2011


THEM:Tonight the role of Melissa Jane Osborne will be played by....
ME: Wait wait, I'm here. I can do it.
THEM: We know we've just decided to go in a different direction. With you. We just want someone a little more... you. Not like you now, but you of the past, a you of the future, a more hopeful, shinier you.
ME: You want a more you-me?
THEM: A more you-you.
ME: That sounds like a softdrink.
THEM: See like that. More fun and flirty and light, less introspective, more possible!
ME: So you're asking me to pretend?
THEM: No no genuine, genuinely be less...
ME: Knowing?
THEM: Damaged.
ME: Ha! Damaged? I'm not-
THEM: Okay I wouldn't say 'damaged', I'd say less- less..shadow-y. But still edgy. But egdy in a bright way. But not bright like smart, not too smart. But not stupid just...
ME: Just what?
THEM: See, like you with the questions! The questions are good, if they're curious. We just want to go younger with it.
ME: But I am me. I mean I'm the age I'm supposed to be.
THEM: Chronologically. But energetically...
ME: More?
THEM: Open.
ME: So you want me to forget?
THEM: Sure, just less layers.
ME: But I gained them.
THEM: Right, but there's microdermabrasion.
ME: Life microdermabrasion?
THEM: Sure. Oh, and we'll have to get your boobs done.
ME: Bigger.
THEM: More proportional, whatever ideal you would have. The nose is fine we can leave the nose it's a very you nose.
ME: Because it's my nose.
THEM: Right. Totally right for your nose.
ME: So you want me to...
THEM: Not over think it. Just be light.
ME: Be light?
THEM: Not like 'lite' but 'light'.
ME: Now I feel pressure to be light.
THEM:Be easy.
ME: Like promiscuous?
THEM: No not necessarily, not physically.
ME: So intellectually?
THEM: Sure.
ME: Emotionally?
ME: You want me to be an emotional whore?
THEM: Yes, sure, feel things for people. Make them feel things. Preferably good things. Give them a release. Ask them things, make them think you care.
ME: Care?
THEM: But don't, I mean you can but it's not necessary. Oh and we'll need to lighten your hair.
ME: So I can be lighter.
THEM: Right. And do that laugh thing where you open your mouth, do that a lot. Oh oh and pet puppies.
ME: Puppies, there weren't ever puppies.
THEM: Well there are now. We added them. Think of them like puppies in the inside.
ME: Internal puppies?
THEM: Yes like little golden retrievers jumping through your soul. We need you to be more of a golden retriever, and less of a...
ME: Black lab?
THEM: I was going to say mangled street dog with cataracts, but sure. Yeah, just be you.
ME: Just be me.
THEM: But don't over think it. Don't hold on to it too hard.
ME: So let go.
THEM: Right. I really think this is going to be great really. Just uhm take the note and give it another pass .. okay?

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

the bubble

So how did I get it? 'We don't know'. And how does it go away 'It just does'. And is it painful 'It can be'. So can you just take it out? ' that would be worse'. So I just have to live with it. 'If it's not to painful' Sit with it? 'If its not too painful'. And it'll make my breasts and stomach huge, like I'm pregnant. 'Sort of'. Make me nauseous. That's the leaking'. The leaking? 'You have to wait for it to leak out.' And what is it leaking out? 'Matter. Nothing'. If it's nothing then why is it so painful. 'Because it's a foreign substance'. A foreign substance leaking. So it's like I'm pregnant with nothing? 'full of it, yes'. And when will the pain go away? ' we don't know, you wait. Some days will be worse than others'. So it's like a memory, it just leaks out slowly? And there are moments of pain, and then a shell a reminder? And you just wait for the pain to leak out, just wait as it gets less and less the pain? So it's like a memory? '95% of them go away. Statistically 95% of them, given time, go away'.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011


Soon there won't be any reminders of him in her inbox. In a day or so, if she doesn't delete the automated ones from the president. She couldn't decide whether or not to delete his voicemails, or listen, for that moment...the moment where it, went. the moment she was too preoccupied to hear. She deleted the texts, the photo of the moon, the one telling her he'd call later, that he was running late, the one back that she was mad he was running late. Where were they going anyway, was there parking? There was never any parking in this godforsaken place! People were always going places just to drive around, fighting to find a place to settle, for a moment. And I guess that's kinda what this was. Fighting for a spot, thinking you're going to stay longer than you actually do.

he reminded her of her college boyfriend, same height, different coloring. her college boyfriend,before she knew what hurt was, before she hurt someone. They were similar, except for the shoebox of letters sent when boys sent letters. similar except for the duration,determination. 'men do get sidetracked less easily'.is he deleting e-mails? she thought. 'think of all the words wasted' perhaps he would have grown up to have been like him. To have stopped writing letters. perhaps the words in both boxes were the same, or the younger were better, or the same but read better? She also printed the e-mails from her university account, placed them in the box. Because he asked her to. For a day where they no longer knew their passwords but wanted to read together. assuming that came. And she assumed. And now for the first time, she assumed again. And perhaps, perhaps it did make an ass out of you and me. 'no no just me'.

Their names started with the same letter, but most names do. They looked at her the same way, before they smiled, before they turned away. And she looked just as desperate as she inched closer. As she lobbed words back, wanting to play...nothing hit back.

She hadn't kept any of his books, his hair was no longer on the pillow. The toothbrush was left then taken. Yet there he was floating, in words and spaces, and somehow that was worse.