I’ve figured that much out by now. It’s her duty to tell me that I’m making a big mistake regardless of what I’m doing. It’s also her duty to find out what I’m doing so that she can tell me that it’s a big mistake. Sometimes I wonder if that’s fun for her or if she does it because she doesn’t know how else to communicate.
...read more hereI know that I have a tendency to fall into the belief that everyone else is, including my old-but-obviously-inexperienced-with-the-ways-of-the-world therapist (can you tell that I’m a youngster?) and that I am the only person in the room if not in the world with half an ounce of vision and good sense. I told the doctors that at Bellevue. They raised their eyebrows at me and nodded their heads. I guess everyone in Bellevue says that, huh?
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A few days ago I tried on a pair of jeans at Levi’s and discovered that I had a muffin top. Yes, I said a muffin top. Apparently, I’m getting fat.
Nobody believes me when I say this, though.
...read more hereWriting Prompts:
2.) A post your mom would write if your mom wrote posts.
Actually, I don’t look anything like Joie Lee, but I’ve noticed that every intellectual artist from Brooklyn not only knows her whole family personally, but thinks I look just like her… but “more attractive.” Um, okay.
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What annoys me is that I was planning anything. I don’t want to admit that I tried. I wish I could say that I didn’t. I wish I could say that I meant it that way. [...] I know that if she reads this, she will cringe, and I’d like to say that it was my intention to make her cringe. There would be honor in that at least…
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Mother once described the form of each piece as “everybody plays a song, and then a bunch of other stuff happens, and then they play the song again and stop.” (Those of you who know about jazz improvisational forms are probably laughing your asses off, and the rest of you are like “Um , okay, I don’t get the joke.” It’s fine. Just move on.)
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It will not be enough to simply kill mother. It would then be necessary to clean the blood off the tiles, and out of the grout between the tiles. And then, to pick up the tiles and clean the blood out from under them, where it will have invariably seeped. Quickly, quickly, before it stains…
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So I had my pancakes and my cheese (after cleaning up the curdled milk) and danced around the kitchen thinking how awesome a human being I am because I can follow a simple recipe.
...read more here… I would have thought nothing of it until she leaned against the dining room table eating a caramel cheesecake with a plain-but-sweetened graham crust and sipping her tea and declared that not only was I being nice today, but I was also a half-decent cook.
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