Classic NYC Story

Words of a poet… Soul of a musician…

Posts Tagged ‘family’

On key chains and bitch face

She promised to bring neither a dish nor a bottle, as we had requested, but a gift. Something pretty but completely useless, as is usually appropriate for a wedding gathering. I told her that we would have more use for food, but she adamantly refused to either cook or spend money on alcohol.

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Poetry Corner Friday: Borrow

I left the sweater on her bed
with a “thank you.”
Three days later
“can I borrow your jacket?”

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On the sit down

There were too many males at the table. Occasionally they ganged up on me. In retrospect, that’s probably a good sign. It means they’ll all get along fine.

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On working with uncle

I’m awfully stupid, though, because I don’t take telling and I don’t follow my uncles’ good advice. Well… they don’t call me stupid. They tell me how smart I am because I managed to teach myself a programming language without the aid of a school. Then they tell me I should go back to school. Maybe I am indeed stupid, because that, to me, is a mixed message.

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Music Monday: Can’t let go

No matter what the people say, I’m gonna love you anyway… you are my life… I can’t let go…

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On the substitute bass player

The band is… well… close knit. I’ve never been in a close knit band before. My experience with bands is that everyone shows up at the beginning of the rehearsal/gig (that is, except for the inevitable few who show up late), we play, hang out for maybe ten or fifteen minutes afterward, and then everyone [...]

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On a Christmas miracle or five

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?

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On a mistress

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…

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On taking a sick day

Yes, that’s me, the weakling superwoman. And since it’s only recently that I have health insurance, I’ve found a way to cure (or at least pretend to cure) every ailment with something found in the kitchen or a health food store or a Duane Reade.

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