Thirty Centimeters.

I was eight when George W. Bush declared war on Iraq. During the first few months people in bars would turn their heads towards the television and say, smiles popping all gung-ho, that we’d have Hussein’s head on a stake before the year was over. I asked my father about bombs and he told me. […]

Bipolar Part 1 of ∞

When I walk into my room I see it as a secret base: a screwdriver for when she locks herself in the bathroom, a phone with a doctor on speed dial, several packs of Kleenex, a box of medication underneath my photo albums. It is odd to be keeping the medication of one’s mother underneath […]

I’ve Been Reading A Clockwork Orange Again, Is It Too Obvious?

I love humans. It sounds off when I term it that way, a little too careless, a little too pseudo-cutesy, maybe a little disturbing. I can’t very well explain it, but I do. With them in my days, there’s so much magic. They themselves are not particularly exciting, but then again neither am I. We […]

This Is What Happens Now.

I called the psychiatrist half an hour ago. Outside on the balcony, so she wouldn’t hear me, holding the phone in one hand and the slip with his number on the other. He had a voice like a classmate of mine, regular, almost boyish, especially careful. I told him about her. He seemed nice, and, […]

Unnamed #5.

You look for answers like I’d look for a lost earring: on your knees, hands splayed across the linoleum, grabbing everyone you encounter by their collars, have you seen it? have you seen it? it’s small and I’m sure I’ve lost it, oh I hope I haven’t, I hope I haven’t, have you seen it? […]


You’re so fast the automated subway ticket doors don’t even register you, staying open after you’ve passed your ticket and are on the other side. You beckon to me from over there, hair getting in your eyes, hands in your pockets. My first instinct is to begrudge you the free ride, as I may begrudge […]

Surely The Alaskans Won’t Mind.

Having been a 24/7 eighty-four-horsepower fruitcake all my life, I feel a great deal of affinity with my fellow crazies. They’re less insane and more singular, with which I mean that they carry on in a way that is only really applicable to them. It’s like in those movies where the hero is the only […]


I had an eight percent chance of blue eyes. Maybe? Something around that number, if I am to believe the Punnett squares I scrawled on dinner napkins or the Polaroid photograph of my grandfather my mother keeps in a shoe box in her closet. There are veins of oxidation splitting the skin of his neck, wobbly lines […]

Schmaltzy Spanish Separatists.

Eight thirty is the scheduled time for my school bus to arrive. There is an affable man operating it, and a not-quite-as-affable-but-still-cordial young lady helping the smaller kids on and into child seats. Everything is completed as if in record time, children buckled in and doors closing with a neat little swish shwoo, the cooing of […]

On The Business Of Being Old.

Why I feel old: the songs I used to listen to are on the Oldie’s station, the Pluto I knew erased from science books, the television shows I’d tape on the VCR discontinued, the slang I so liberally tossed around replaced by Internet memes, the actors I mimicked in rehab. I talk about Reagan’s funeral […]