Classic NYC Story

…The house was in an abnormal, ominous lull. There was no music playing. My sister was in the dining room reading about ancient Rome. My mother was writing something. My brother was swearing at the computer and my cousin was helping him. My ex-best friend was in the living room reading a novel about a crazy girl. The people of Oran were dying of the plague, despondent, desperate, and reeking of death. I broke open an orange cream chocolate…

I’m wondering if there is anything that I have done or that I’m likely to do or that I’ve learned or unlearned that will make next year any better than this year was. If there is not, well then that’s an awfully depressing thought. It’s depressing to think that next year will be this year plus one…

47. Quote that sums up your year: “I’m trying to decide which way to go… I think I made a wrong turn back there somewhere…” from Didn’t-cha Know by Erykah Badu

Do you know what happens when it snows in NYC? Oh, I’ll tell you… what happens is that every mode of transportation that leads out of Queens becomes unusable…

Well the weather outside is frightful… but the fire is so delightful… and since we’ve no place to go…

Gregory Porter answered his phone. On Christmas day. I’m convinced he forgot that he was supposed to be screening my calls. Yes, I’m that arrogant. Am I not important enough to have my calls screened?

I wish no ill on the poor sweet girl. I don’t even really wish them to break up per se, but I wish she’d know her place and step off my husband’s reincarnation. I am not the mistress; she is. I’ll swear to the jury that he was mine first. I’ll stick to my story…

I went on a hunt for the card as soon as I got in the house, and found it buried in a stack of my mother’s mail. It was one of those cards that sings. There was a gift card inside. It was only the fact that my current financial situation forbade me from getting Christmas gifts for anyone at all that saved me from the mild guilt of not having gotten him anything.

Today is a poetry day, isn’t it? As it so happens, I have a poem available, which I will not post because it includes the name of the person I sent it to. Of course, I could just take out the name or censor it, but that would be too clever for me. The true [...]

I managed to crawl out of bed with enough strength to call my therapist, and strangely after our brief conversation which consisted of nothing but a confirmation that our session was indeed canceled today because she had a nasty cold, I felt better.