recalled category archives
“1 a.m. /I am”
Friday 7 July 2006 | someone left a cookie
An eye rhyme Brodsky was, once upon a time, long ago, time back way back, awfully proud of. There are eighteen million things to say but really only a few worth mentioning. Voldemort sent me a fat letter which I left with the DBT, instructing her to share it with me only if it a) [...]
emotional insomnia
Wednesday 5 July 2006 | I like a cookie
It’s grey wet girzling dawn outside; in feline realms, black bitch Bagheera is growling at gray doormat Cat, whom she’s cornered in the back garden. I should be rewriting Maman’s obituary, but am not. My wrists and forearms growl threateningly as well. I feel utterly numb. Last night (Imperialist Conquest Day), the Brujo and I [...]
the boy
Friday 26 August 2005 | I like a cookie
I met N. in the Zen monastery where Mandarin and her British spouse lived for two years (before Mandarin was diagnosed with celiac disease and started a clinical social work graduate program, before her Brit ran off with a she to whom Mandarin long disdainfully, furiously, desperately referred as “the Succubus”). I’d been in shock [...]
of cover albums and desert-island beasts
Saturday 23 October 2004 | I like a cookie
So even though I came up with the cover-album-for-N’s-birthday idea (“the best of the eighties, nineties, and today!”) over three weeks ago, I’m still too timid to ask Maman if I can borrow her stunning electric piano. I’m about ready to sell all I own to buy one of these…I’d rather have it than the [...]
read ‘of cover albums and desert-island beasts’
left all my pianos out in the rain
Sunday 25 July 2004 | someone left a cookie
O how I want my bedtime story story story, tell me stories. The thinly sublimated passage in Peter Pan where Wendy says with desperate seductiveness, Oh Peter, I know such a lot of stories. There are some girls who’ll do anything to hang with lost boys. Stories and boys always get me in trouble. Musical [...]
read ‘left all my pianos out in the rain’
thou shalt have no other cats before me
Wednesday 9 June 2004 | I like a cookie
Thus says Nina, regally, with cool silent eyes, regarding us with hauteur from the butterscotch leather mini-loveseat where she has set up her mysterious operations of late. (Here she is with somewhat less hauteur.) (My parents went furniture shopping last week, further decorating the living room in the style to which my father refers as [...]
read ‘thou shalt have no other cats before me’
brief dispatch from south texas
Monday 31 May 2004 | I like a cookie
I am tired and weepy and people-phobic and in an, I fear, now-chronic state of terror and adrenaline rush. Also my sciatic ass hurts and I managed to sit zazen for a whopping six or seven minutes before wigging out completely. N. didn’t call tonight. I had a dismal pale simulacrum of a non-conversation with [...]
read ‘brief dispatch from south texas’
the vastly differing stories of three lady pianists
Friday 21 May 2004 | I like a cookie
I specially like this one story Tori told about her little daughter Natasha: Tori: She said, I want to learn to play the piano, Mommy. And so I said, Well, okay. And I try to find her a piano teacher. I said, I am not teaching because that is not good. So I couldn’t find [...]
read ‘the vastly differing stories of three lady pianists’
naughty wrist faeries
Tuesday 18 May 2004 | I like a cookie
Trying to make it so the Unnarrator can’t blog! But she don’t care. Too much to relate and not enough time to write a paper letter, and it’s too late on the East Coast for a phone call (though she sat in the car, teary, for a long time holding the cellphone, and was in [...]
mrkrgnao (pace joyce)
Friday 14 May 2004 | I like a cookie
From sleeping all forest-mottled and beautiful and rustily purring on her green comforter at the foot of the bed, Nina arose, stretched, came and blinked at me for a few minutes, tried to walk on the keyboard, startled at the sight of the Possum, sniffed with horror at my salt and vinegar potato chips (potato [...]
