Something For Everybody

The other night I am at Alisa’s house and we are drinking wine on her patio and we are talking about what it is to leave things behind. We are both verging on being of a certain age although truthfully it’s hard for me to accept that neither one of us are not still in [...]

Mrs. X was a bitter, angry fat person who basically hated everybody. Her fingers were like sausages with leathery wrinkled skin, sectioned by barren rings with tiny, mean hurtful stones that cut into them. I know this because Mrs. X was the sort of person that you did not ever look in the eye, so [...]

I can’t recapture my past, nobody can. For me, the past is beautiful and hugely imperfect. I want to make it linear and fix it and I can’t.