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  • Fixed

    My hair is a mess. There’s a blonde tangle sticking out of the right side of my head like an antler. I can’t believe I went out of the house like that. I can’t believe I’m halfway done with my shopping and I just now noticed that. I sigh. Thus…

  • Hello?

    Well, be glad I’ve already had my shower today so I don’t look all too heinous. My nose is inches from the screen, my eyes wide and searching, looking through the monitor at you on the other side. But all I can see is a dark silhouette and it tells…

  • Dead orchid

    Melanie trounced past carrying a plastic vase with two lifeless stems protruding. Her dead orchid. I laughed; she said she didn’t understand how it could die. How could Walmart keep it alive and she couldn’t? I realized the square pot could be helpful as I look to re-pot my green,…

  • Old lady at the bus stop and Flannery O’Connor

    I’m in the passenger seat and Demon Spawn is driving me to pick up my “new” 2004 Sebring convertible, complete with top-of-the-line tires and functional windshield fluid lines. The weather is lovely compared to the past several days — in the 40s compared to 4. Yet we drive past a…

  • Silent scream

    OUCH! DAMMIT! SON OF A WHORE! I CAN’T, I CAN’T, I CAN’T! IT’S ALWAYS THERE, THERE’S NO ESCAPE! IT HURTS, IT HURTS! OMG! MAKE IT STOP! PLEEEEAASE!!!! AUAUAUAUAUAGH!!!! Hmmm. That didn’t help much. I’m quite certain real screaming would have been far more therapeutic. Pity. OK, back to work.  

  • Practicing

    I stare at its gleaming edges, holding it up to the light and twisting it back and forth. And I talk to myself, “Put the razor down,” I mutter. “Don’t do it. Don’t!” But the urge is strong and my fingers start to tremble around the plastic Bic handle. Edison’s…

  • Making light

    It’s the little things, the things the world can’t touch. I flip the light off and look up — it stays on. I’ve lived in this house 11 years now and still haven’t figured out the switches. A year or so after we first moved in the police came to…

  • Research

    I close the back cover of my latest research effort, otherwise known as Trash Romance Novel No. 70-or-so. Heh. I had it figured out — it was the seemingly gay assistant who was avenging the loss of his woman lover and the betrayal of having her heart beating in another…

  • Princess

    I got to be a princess yesterday (Saturday). Well, yes, I suppose it started Friday even before I got my birthday lunch — which was nice and less awkward than most. And this in spite of my insurance calling Friday afternoon and saying it wouldn’t cover my  Chrysler Sebring 2004…

  • Something I’m not

    The one thing I can be confident of is that no matter my personality shifts and chameleonesque adaptation to any situation, I cannot be accused of trying or pretending to be something I’m not because if that were the case I’d have to have some sort of idea of who…