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Monthly Archives: August 2002
half a hundred
Plodding on. I need to take a shower, get dressed for work, and then spend eight hours making strangers happy, soothing the anxious, encouraging the terrified, saving lives and, generally, changing the face of the earth. Will resume ‘a hundred … Continue reading
a hundred loves (continued)
Haven’t forgotten about the list of loves, though I have realized—sitting on the edge of my bed, I balled my eyes out after writing the first thirty-seven—that I have forgotten about most of the ones I loved. Remember, this is … Continue reading
Posted in
Tagged Billy Percival, John Paul, Lorraine Gustavson, Nova Scotia, nurse, Yarmouth
Comments Off on a hundred loves (continued)
a hundred loves
Out of bed. Considered writing yesterday (like everyday). In fact, I just remembered that I had actually opened the Movable Type new entry page. Never stroked a single key, though. Some more important diversion (which I can’t recall now) distracted … Continue reading
Posted in
Tagged actress, admissions department nurse, an athlete, Andrew, Anne, bellboy/pianist, Bill Lyver, Boston, Boy George, cab driver, Cape Cod, Cape CodI, Christopher Castle, David Ackley, Elton John, grade teacher, Helen, Juan Valdez, kindergarten teacher, Neil Michael Medin, nurse, owner, pastry chef, Paul, Peter, Reading, supervisor, Tommy, Tupper
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no time
There’s no time. There never is. I really don’t want time, I want stopped time. Just hold still for a minute, so I can figure all this out, OK? Don’t you realize there’s babies under this train, getting smeared all … Continue reading
call me a cab (driver)
There is nothing like a cab driver to make one want to keep living, …or at least want to clean the house (I have just discovered dust bunnies under my keyboard). Is sex really supposed to be this good?
yet untitled
I will die depressed. That, at least, is what the depression would have me think. Who knows? It may be right. Also, I will die unpublished. Hah! That’s rich. One needs to have written something to be ‘unpublished’, doesn’t one? … Continue reading