Monthly Archives: January 2012

Craniosacral

She has her hands on the side of my head. I think of the chart she showed me before we began. The wave shape inside my skull, and the way the fluid moves through my spine. I am about to ask what a stillpoint is … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

How long?

She’s telling us that her friends haven’t had sex in a while. “How long’s a while?” we ask.

“Four years.”

“Four —” my brain cramps.

“Years. Yeah.”

“Why?” I ask, and mean, would anyone stay. Why would anyone stay? “I mean, are they upset about … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Wait

She has been my girl for 13 years. That’s what I’m thinking, sitting on the floor, petting a tremendous amount of hair from her coat, and sobbing into my coffee. Her hind legs have stopped working and she can’t stand. Can’t walk. She’s fish-like, and … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

So, about race

I’m 8, and my grandmother is telling me a story. We’re in Arkansas.

“A mixed race couple moved into my sister’s neighborhood and my sister’s having a hard time.”

“Why?” I ask.

She stammers. “Well, honey, it’s just the way she was raised.”

“You were … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Shame

Listening to Violent Femmes this weekend, I found myself thinking about ministers’ children and shame. You can’t listen to Violent Femmes and not think about shame — about humiliation. About sex and need. Or early Tori Amos for that matter. We’re raised by people who … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Take the Shortbus

The Netflix rental sat atop the television for months. Blocking the way of remotes and novels. Glaring at us with its red and white face. Why haven’t you watched this movie? Mostly it was the title of the film. Shortbus. Are you fucking kidding? Mary … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The middle of the night

I woke at four and followed the murmurs to the living room. She was leaned over the mobile crib, patting his back.

“Is he hungry?” I asked.

“A bottle I think,” she said and handed him to me.

We sat on the couch and he … Read more

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Not-a-boyfriend

“I wish you were a boy,” she says, and kisses me again.

I could describe the scene for you. Describe the girl, but the truth is, this line repeated for years. The first time a girl said it, and then kissed me, I was eight. … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Opium dreams

I had codeine dreams last night. You know, where you’re in your own house and a couple of dudes are fixing the furnace with scuba equipment and you walk upstairs and say, “Jesus! We have a bathtub! I can’t believe it. I have to tell … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Don’t be sore

She realized I was afraid before I realized it. I’ve been stalling and stalling about going to the doctor. I gave my last doctor up and hadn’t settled on a new one, and it seemed perfectly legit not to bother actually looking for a new … Read more

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments