Occasionally I ask myself “What are you writing?!?? Pelting squirrels and fuzzy cat buses?!?” That is usually when I can feel myself “filling in”– you know, writing something that isn’t exactly the truth of what is on my mind. I guess I “fill-in” on the days when I need to talk, to spill it, but…
Category: Angst
Angst:
Stories that get mixed up, that feel out of place, that confuzzle the soul.
Offer Expires at Midnight
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Someone whispered to me this: Today is a one-time deal, Elizabeth. Offer expires at midnight. It’s days before the anniversary of one year in Connecticut and the leaves are still busting out. The forsythia does not bloom forever. I can’t tell you about tomorrow, but for today, I am cashing in on the deal.
You alright?
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John Brandon, the great governor of the Warrington Hotel, was the first English person to truly confuse me with a question. “You alright?” he’d ask, his voice rising up lightly. He was from East London, proper Cockney. His “you alright” was was one of the few things I could actually understand him saying. Except that…
Nowhereland
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It’s dark in here. Yesterday, after the end came, I spotted a soggy tennis ball at the side of the road. It was in the sand, nearby the strip mall, inches away from rushing tires. Miles away from tennis courts, or even miles from the drooling mouth of a happy dog. It gets easier to…
Bored Beyond Belief
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Lately, I don’t know what I am doing. I am not so much numb as I have been fiercely holding down my mind, pressing it up against my palm to keep it from straying. I am stopping every other thought… back spacing and deleting it. I am rushing backwards to go over the day, to…
A Stream Running Up a Mountain
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O, love is never easy It’s almost always out of your way. It’s not the path of least resistance. It’s not some words you get to say. He is rough and she is gentle. He is smooth and she rocks like ice in gin. He is jittery and patient. She is cool and hot. I…
A Cold Day
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It doesn’t make sense, when the day starts with sunshine and ends, wet and unsettled, grey and cold. It doesn’t make sense, when a friend comes. Rings the bell. Shines the light. Then disappears, shuts the door behind them, to seal in the silence. It doesn’t make sense, at all, the emptiness of a womb,…
Walking in Winter
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I am cut off from myself. A dividing line runs through me. If you are looking for me, here I am– and here I am not. Since 2005, when the cord was cut (first temporarily, then permanently), I shut a door. I wedged it shut. I went out for a walk in winter and I…
In a Crowded Room
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Time holds only the shape you give it. This week, it was pressed thin, squashed against the wall, hot and heavy. It was pressing, but lovely all the same. I am not sure, exactly what I am supposed to do with the time I am given. I only know what when I am busy, the…
On the Road Again…
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Or, Christmas… Elsewhere There are two kinds of traveling: have to and will to. Have to Travel Work Family Death Holiday Will To See Experience Chill Activate Interact Note the difference in the etymology of the two? First is static, nominative. The second is active, verbal, a way to BE in the world. We’re traveling…
Do You Close the Bathroom Door Even When You’re the Only One Home?
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Or, A Prelude to How to Have an Existential Crisis I recently was hired to teach two courses next semester. I am thinking about quitting and I haven’t even started yet. In fact, I have pretty much already decided to quit, I just can’t be bothered to get around to it. I’ve decided not to…
While he was running, I stood here still
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For Denny, who ran the marathon yesterday Not every To Do list has value, even in completion. Accomplishments fill time. They tire you to your bones, make you sleep better. But they are just done things, sometimes. Stand in this group if you run in circles to wear yourself out, to alleviate the boredom. Come…
The Project Book
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Deep Knee Bend, 2 I am painting the trim in the fourth bedroom. Only it’s the first bedroom trim I am painting in the house, not the fourth. And we don’t call this the fourth bedroom; we call it “Bedroom 3” because one bedroom is too much room to be numbered so we call it MASTER…
Darning Her Socks in the Night When There’s Nobody There
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Deep Knee Bends, Part 1 I keep wondering if I am writing for me– you know, just to playback or appease the voices in my head– or if I really just want to carve my X on the page. And I don’t want the world to see me ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.…
