Dear Jon Armstrong
and Heather Armstrong
Don’t worry, I’m not one of those assholes who feels the need to jump Heather’s shit and turn what you are both terming “Recent Events” into a hate fest. I do not blame either of you for the current state of your union, and I do not, in fact, feel like your marriage is any of my goddamned business at all.
But that’s why I’m writing you. Naturally.
I want to talk about this from a fan’s perspective. I follow blurbomat and dooce.com. I feel (although the feeling is false) that I am included in some of your most intimate moments.… Read the rest
Right now, in the room we call our office, there are books. A shitload of them. They aren’t all mine. Aren’t even MOST mine. And they don’t confine themselves to the office. They are everywhere. Here are just a few examples.
And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, but there are three full bookcases I didn’t even bother to feature, plus another one that is empty. And then there are the boxes. Boxes and boxes and BOXES
of the exact same thing.
I’m linking this up with The Lightning Bug’s “Flicker of Inspiration” #27, “Here with Me”.… Read the rest
Dear Lady Gaga,
I really like your song “On The Edge of Glory”. It’s got a strong dance rhythm, a memorable tune, and catchy lyrics. The video is also pretty cool. It’s a little different from the large scale dance productions you did for songs like “Bad Romance” and “Alejandro”. I loved the contrast of seeing just you, and I it allowed you to showcase your talents in a much different way. (And let me say, I had no idea there were so many things one could do all alone on a fire escape.)
But let me get to the meat of my discussion here.… Read the rest
I’m walking around Chatfield’s campus, down by the heart shaped pond, where the Canadian honkers congregate every fall. Sam is with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a snake, but I don’t take alarm. It doesn’t look venomous.
In fact, I think I’ll have a closer look, so I pick it up, and only in that instant, when my hand closes around its middle, do I realize the snake is poisonous, the worst kind. It whips around and sinks its teeth not into me, but into Sam. He screams, and then the snake bites me. Sharp, bruising pain runs up my arm where the fangs sink in.… Read the rest
I’m naked again, and somehow I just now noticed in the middle of the hall. I duck around the corner and run outside, where I try to crawl under a bench. Nobody else seems to notice or mind my total exposure, and it’s ironic that this is the only time I seem to be completely invisible.
I walk into 8th grade Algebra and – bang! – it’s exam day. I haven’t studied, my eyes keep blurring out the questions, and this is the big test. The one that determines whether or not I go to high school. In fact, if I fail this one, they’re going to put me back in 6th grade and make me redo that, 7th, and 8th all three.… Read the rest