Musings

And I, separated from him by the width of a single bed and almost forty years, had no choice but to breathe in as much of his grief as I could stand and to store the rest for a rainy day. - p. 14 He had assured my mother that baby Kirsten's apparent inhabitation by wolves was more accurately described as "croup" and would be gone within three days. -p. 16 He had put a stitch in my chin after a collision with a renegade swing.- p. 16 If you destroy the Taj Mahal of blouses, and she asks you how you could be so stupid, where is the answer?  You really do not know how you could be so stupid.  You are partway through a master's degree.  You tutor bright, young, first-year students.  If only you could answer.  But you cannot think, so sleep-deprived are you, having not slept sine before the Ice Age because the rhythm section of a tiny reggae band has sublet the space between your lover's Eustachian tubes and her throat so that it can rehea...

12 July 2008 Sometimes I don’t want to see people.  I hide in my house to avoid them. Like right now. I need to go to the laundry room and move clothes from the washer to the dryer.  But a new neighbor is moving in across the hall.  And her door is open.  And she’s right there.  If I leave my apartment to make the trek to the laundry room, I will or I may, see her.  And right now, I don’t want to see people.  I don’t want to say hi.  I don’t want to have to be friendly and nice.  I just want to be alone.  In retreat.  In my own little world.  This thought of having to make pleasantries with my neighbor has me trapped in my apartment.  I stand at the front door, staring out the peephole, waiting for her to close her door.  If she would just close her door, then I could leave.  I could move my clothes from the washer to the dryer.  But the door is open.  And I remain trapped, looking out a peephole the ...