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Archive for September, 2009

I told Jeremy I was going to set up an appointment for us to get colonics. I was looking at the website and I said, “Oh look!  We can get three colonics for $250!” He said, “Who’ll be our third person?”

“No,” I said. “We’ll each get three.”

He said, “I don’t want to pay 250 dollars for a fuckin’ triple shot of colonics.”

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In the first act of Shakespeare’s All’s Well that Ends Well, Parolles finds the fair Helena thoughtful, and asks, “Are you meditating on virginity?”

I think I’ve asked about four people that this past week. It works out really well.

——-

There were two loaves of bread in the employee room today at work. I asked if I could eat them, if they belonged the somebody. The girl at the desk said that I should go right ahead, that she has a third one at home.

“Why do you have three loaves of bread?” I asked.

She said, “Crush on the guy at the bakery. I’ve been going every morning. There’ll probably be another one tomorrow, if you’d like.”

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bridge to nowhere but my heart.

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An Obvious Distinction.

Arthur had a badge certifying his magician license.

He was certified, or so his box of 101 tricks claimed he was.

He wore one of this older brother’s jackets still two sizes too big and a top hat, which he would correct you and say No, it’s a magician’s hat.

He’d use his wand to make a stuffed rabbit appear, coins double, or read your mind as to what animal you were thinking of simply by asking three questions.

Before his grandfather’s birthday, he lost his wand.

We looked all over the house and he tossed out everything from his closet.

He cried and blamed his brothers, then his mother, then me.

The show would be a disaster, he’d say. None of the tricks would work.

I pulled out a chopstick from the cabinet and said, How’s this?

He shook his head and cried more and I wondered when we started to know the difference between the secular and the sacred.

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summers going fast i hear.

I told my mother not to worry and she never did, as mothers do, because these were big summer drops and our toes in the sand digging in deeper and deeper still.  Her hemp sandals stayed at the bottom of the dunes, underneath a tree with her bag and leather journal, my shirt, too.  The dunes dropped off quick on the other side, steep into the forest and we had rolled down hours before and spent the whole evening feeling the sand cool under us as the sun went down.  Now it rained and rained more and we crept closer to the tree trunks to, well, not to stay dry, we certainly weren’t that, and not warm, as the drops were bath water, but we clang to the trunks none the less.  The dune was easier to climb then now that the water had stiffened the sand some and we made our way up to the top with ease.  She spread out her arms wide and I watched her and the lake as the waves picked up with the wind.

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Triple Shot.

Someone gave me a ride home from work last week so I didn’t have to bike home in the rain. I said, “Thanks, but like really, thank you.” Then I spent the rest of the night fantasizing about me getting rich and famous and paying him back 100 fold.

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Have you ever had a dream where you get fired from your job and after you wake up, realize it was a dream, and get really disappointed?

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I was at a barbeque last week and flies started to land on the food when we were all done. Someone said, “Must be a tribute to good cooking.” Then I saw the fly land on the pile of shit the dog just dropped.

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I talked to a friend today who lives in northern Canada. She had just gotten back from a from a friend’s from dinner. The thing was that she left six days ago. There’s a term for it, I’m told, “storm-stayed.” During dinner, the snow came and there she had to stay for almost an entire week.

She told me the first two days were torture, worrying about all the unfinished business.

But then something opened. She released.

I can’t put myself there, scanning someone else’s bookshelf, watching more and more snow fall, feeling like you over-stayed a welcome yesterday, petting the cat, petting the cat, sneezing.

I thought about it all day, on my bike ride, at work. Six days.

What about work? The dishes in the sink? The book I am supposed to finish?

Then I remembered something she said, “At some point you just have to surrender.”

The the last four days, she said, were heaven. “Cold air in my lungs, warmth against my skin.”

And I try and I breathe and when it all comes rushing in, I just keep repeating under my breath, “Snow-stayed. Snow-stayed.”

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i woke up early this morning and had some of the left over couscous for breakfast. the lawn mowers had started earlier than usual in the courtyard, which i suppose is a valid punishment for those, like me, with mondays off.

we still had orange juice and that’s big.

i read a few articles of last weeks economist and folded a few things.

when my jeremy finally got up around one, he went straight for the orange juice.

i said, “so you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“let’s get it over with,” he said.

“okay so maybe i lied. no bad news today.”

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The courtyard light slipped in through the venetian blinds, now closed for the night, and always kept me up for a few moments longer. We joked that living next to a hospital would be a good thing; “Rainy days,” you said, but someone always seemed to get rushed to emergency when I least needed them to. The sirens jolted me awake just before I slipped to sleep and I watched the red light scream across the ceiling.”

“Goodnight Blake,” I heard that about an hour ago. We are habitually bad at stopping talking, but we do, because these all night chats simply aren’t sustainable.

“Goodnight Veronica,” I said, and then, “Wait, what’s your schedule for tomorrow?” and we took off from there. You were nervous about something you had to do. I don’t remember what. I told you that it would be okay, that you always get that stuff done. You said, “We’ll see.”

I should have learned by now to ask what your schedule is for now, right this moment.

So often, those answers are best.

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Peach pickin’ kisses.

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Jeremy, Ellen and I recently had a conversation about super powers. I brought up what they would do with the super power of making anyone in the room with them have an orgasm of whatever intensity and length you desired.

Jeremy said he would use it to rob banks, just make everyone black out on the floor with pleasure as he took all the money. …either that, or for sports, he said. He’d get the ball in football and just make any potential tackler have a quick surprise in their pants. I told him he needed to make sure he did it fast enough, before they made any contact.

Ellen said that she would use it just to laugh. If she were having a bad day at a red light, the guy crossing the street would just start to enjoy himself a little too much right in front of everyone.

I said that after I talked to anyone, I would give them just a mini, tiny, almost imperceptible party in his or her pants as they walked away, like a nice wine that surprises you later.

We decided that it all showed a lot about our personalities.

Jeremy would use his power to make his own life a lot better.

——-

Ellen would use her power to make her life a little funnier.

——-

And I would use mine to make everyone’s life just a teeny tad better.

So here’s the question… What would you do?

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