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At Least They're Committed

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  • Where the ocean meets the shore

    Stuffing my hand into my beach bag, I pull out my phone, blow the sand off the screen and check my cryptic notes before starting this blog. It’s over, I’m home. I’m typing this naked (ALONE!) with sticky brown dye streaking through my overwrought, sun-bleached hair, Biore strips running horizontally across my face…

  • 8

    As a little girl living in Ann Arbor it pissed me off to no end that during the summer, when it was light outside well past 9 p.m., I was still sent to bed at 8. The ceiling in my room at 3369 Beaumont was sloped, so the open window was low, with…

  • Commas

    Before I actually listened to Grammar Girl’s podcast “Commas are like people on the subway,” I thought, “yeah, the fewer the better.” Then I thought, “unless there’s only you and someone else and he or she is a mass murderer.” (Serial commas, serial murderers . . . ) But when I listened…

  • Tease

    “Hey!” “Hey! How’s it going? Nice of you to stop by.” “So quiet around here, figured I’d come down.” “Aw, thanks for thinking of me.” “Well, it’s you who’ve been thinking of me . . . a lot . . . you’ve been rather chatty.” Sigh. “Yes. Between my poor…

  • Just be

    It’s a lovely, drizzly day complete with thunder and lightning and yet I seemed a tad melancholy, I know. So did you. I guess I am. It’s not what you’re probably thinking, though. Heh. Not at all. I worry about you and about what I don’t know and can’t see. I…

  • It is Sunday, after all, so I might as well write like it

    “And lo on the eve (not evening, eve) of Mayday, the wind blew and the sky parted and a light came down from the heavens and as she looked up he showed himself to her.” Wait, that doesn’t sound right. “He revealed himself to her.” Still not right. “He exposed himself to her.”…

  • Self-preservation

    “So you’re not the least bit put out by what happened at Jonesey’s, eh?” “I’m shocked! There was way too much mayo on the truffle fries.” “Not that,” he says. “You didn’t even have any of the truffle fries.” “Well, that’s what I heard. Oh, the unisex, two-stall bathroom? Eh, I have…

  • The turning point or lack-thereof in a Tripping Raul trash novel

    The heroins in these books are always flawed either by fate or by health: Forced to marry a murderous rich man who runs the town, or in need of a new heart, or whatever. Always in danger, trapped, whether by health or by wealth. So, without further ado, here’s Tripping Raul…

  • Can’t stop laughing

    Awake at 2:22 a.m., up at about 4, in the surgery prep room with your mom, Dez, at 5:30 a.m. The kind nurse prepping her says, “Do you want the implants?” Your mom and I are up too early, exhausted. I look at her and try to quickly and quietly…

  • It’d been a while

    I gingerly navigated Grant Street, waiting for the light to cross 19th and then cross again. My feet hurt, but I’m not about to complain. I walk down the north side of 19th Street and start past the really cool looking, U-shaped, old, brick building with iron bars on the windows…