I meet a woman named M on Friday nights.
M is dying.
Her heart is failing her. She is mostly bed-ridden but she can still take drinks on her own. I am not on mouth-swab duty yet. She does need chapstick yet.
Her room is filled with quilts, crosses and twinkle lights. Her oxygen machine sounds a lot like the white-noise setting my ex used to sleep at night.
She likes to talk what she thinks heaven is going to be like and that gay people are the reason for the approaching rapture.
My job is to make sure she’s…
Tonight I had a call with a woman who just lost her mother in February.
When she answered she sounded like she was asleep. Turns out she’s had three strokes since her mother died and recently found out she has cancer. Her first chemo treatment is on Thursday.
She said, “Can you hear my daughter? She was reading me a story. Will you call back Thursday?”
I hung up the phone and sent an email to see if I can break the rules and call her Thursday. Then I fell into my hands and sobbed.
I sobbed that life…
Days like today are the days when I remember the freak that I am.
When I remember that I vowed that I will never let a drop get by me again. That I will lick my fucking spoon and clean my plate.
When I remember the elixir left on my fingers begging to be licked off. The elixir to help you unleash your gremlin.
If you are in my orbit, I can make it feel high stakes. I’m sorry that there is no middle ground for me anymore. I need less rest. I bounce back faster. I stay in the…
I have a friend that tortures me.
He sends me hairless cat pictures on instagram.
It’s one of the most unsettling things that a friend does to me, but I love him anyway.
I love him so much that I cried when he got his dream job. And, he loves me so much that when I told him I was seeing someone, he put his hands to his chest and said, “This feels like the Christmas none of us had.”
He is a gentle bike-riding, web developer who has a huge crush on his fiancé —he is also horrible for…
I don’t know about investments or inflation but the boy with the chiseled features does.
He depleted me because he has a smartwatch that tells him when to stand and when to breathe.
I listen to him tell me what to pay attention to — he thinks I am penniless and for an afternoon I think so too.
After a few songs and a few walks I start to remember the borrowed Tupperware from shared meals with friends. I remember all of my unread messages about getting together, when I’m coming home and making plans in the new year. …
I’m sorry I spilled over. Perhaps, then, our levees wouldn’t have broken and the town’s businesses wouldn’t be abandoned.
I’m sorry that I made us stay. I’m sorry I didn’t make us sit bumper to bumper on the evacuation route but you can’t drive a manual.
I’m sorry I said nothing bad would happen even though the water was starting to rise in the basement.
I am a fool in that way. I never see the soggy wallpaper or feel wet carpet until it’s too late. This has happened before.
I’m sorry that I am another…
Good people die.
Death happens to people with plans. To people with dreams. To people who have crushes. To people who have potential. To people who have moms and dads and brothers and sisters and children.
Death can be senseless and wreckless. Your death could be senseless and wreckless.
You could get a green light and someone could run their red light and plow through you—I’ve seen that happen. You could save money to buy a beach house your whole marriage—buy it and then die a year later—I’ve seen that happen.
It's hard to explain this to people who don’t…
Today, do not play make-believe.
Yesterday I read this excerpt from Untamed -
For a long while I pretended not to know that even though I had only one life, I was spending it inside a lonely marriage.
But, I misread it. I do that a lot — whether it’s ADD, undiagnosed dyslexia, or my cellphone is finally rotting my brain (like my grandmother’s email forwards from 2006 said it would) — my brain sometimes pieces the wrong thing together. I misinterpret colleague emails at an alarming rate. Needless to say, I’m a real dream to work with.
With all due respect, I have no desire to ever sip champagne in an infinity pool — I’ve got too much other shit to do.
I believe in the power of travel but I have to tell you, I do not need to jet-set anywhere to be fucking interesting.
I’m full wherever I go.
I have no desire to wear a bedazzled chauffeur's cap at Burning Man. I have no desire to attend anything with the word ‘retreat’ in it. …
I’m packing up my home.
Sitting crisscross, I reach for another box and decide that I’m going to look through all of my photos and finally get rid of some of them.
It feels weird to get rid of photos but I promised I would not bring anything I don’t need. I’m going to leave what needs to be put to rest in this house. To the future homebuyers, if you’re reading this, please do not worry about any bad energy or vibes. The house heals.
I’ve never felt anything but comforted by this home. But, for the first time…
a list-making nightmare.