“They’re going to light the tree at Jack London Square tonight,” said the man on the free bus. “They’re going to plug it in. It’s a good place to meet girls. I mean, women. Maybe I’ll find Mrs. Right. I mean, Miss Right. I’ve certainly found a lot of Miss Takes.”
Hog brain
November 12, 2011In the tire store waiting room, the television blared an interview with a woman who eats mostly roadkill she finds near her home.
What? said the other man waiting with me. What? He began to laugh loudly—he was still in that jolly place that lasted the mechanic came to tell him he needed to replace all four tires.
How does a person develop a taste for roadkill? he said. Her brain just turned into a hog brain.
Sorry, Mom
November 8, 2011The two girls had moved to the bathroom to talk—it was the only place to escape the thump of the bass and the screaming crowd. The one with the nose ring stood closer to the sink. The one with arms that looked painted leaned against the paper towel dispenser until she pulled up one side of her pants to show her friend a new tattoo.
Oh, it was bad when I finally showed her, she said. “Why do you have a goddamn hamburger on your fucking leg?” And I said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry.”
Editing in her sleep
November 6, 2011All too often, she found herself editing in her sleep, redacting words and adding new clauses to whatever stories spun through her dreams. She knew she needed to make changes, but didn’t know why they had to happen at such inconvenient times, when she would much rather be swimming through worlds that lacked language as her hair spread across the pillow. Instead, she tinkered. Instead, she played with puzzling sentences.
From bad to naughty
October 26, 2011This group has been having dinner together for 20 years, he said. We used to meet for cocktails at 8, then have dinner at 9.
He looked down at his drink, then up at the clock on the wall of the bar.
These days, we meet for cocktails at 7, he said. We used to be bad. Now, we’re just naughty.
Lifted fog
October 24, 2011The city pushed back the mist the next morning, the sun emerging like a starlet through a fog-filled stage. She watched it all happen from the window high above the street, her breath clouding the window when she leaned too close.
Come back to bed, he said from the shadowed corner of the room.
Soon, she said, though she knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t know how to tell him she’d reached clarity. She couldn’t explain the view—she only knew she was the only one of the two of them who could see it at all.
Rye cocktail
October 22, 2011You want to go with something dry? asked the bartender. With mezcal? Weird? Great?
I would like something weird AND great, I said. Just tell me what it is when you’re done.
