At the sink just now. Humming ‘Nothing Compares to You’. It’s everyone’s favorite Sinead O’Connor song except mine. Prince wrote a pretty song for a pretty girl. And she made it her own because that voice, and that spirit. But her other songs–the ones she wrote–they are a whole world. I remember listening to SineadContinue reading “Sinead, Again”
Tag Archives: identity
The Devil’s Tears
Memorizing a monologue from a play: the nostalgic musings of a discouraged prostitute. I’m thinking about how almost everything in life is a negotiation. And these words from a song are stuck in my head on a loop: He said “I am the devil, boy, come with meAnd we’ll make many storms”He offered me theContinue reading “The Devil’s Tears”
This Old Thing
I’m wearing the sweatshirt I stole from my older brother back when I was young enough to do that kind of thing. He was away at college. It’s black with cut-off sleeves; they’re frayed now. There used to be a stencil on the back–his design–a combination horse’s butt and beer bottle in white paint withContinue reading “This Old Thing”
The Unlearning
Cereal again. I’m trying this new sugar-free muesli. Muesli always reminds me of my dad. How he always used to pour me a bowl when I visited him, before he left for work. When I was a kid, I dished out my own cereal. But as an adult, as a guest in his home, itContinue reading “The Unlearning”
London
I was eighteen, I think. London: the first time I lived alone. Just me. And a place. I came to know it like you know a person. These parts I explore. These are achingly familiar. Here I avoid. Here I just don’t know yet, or ever. And sometimes I just want to get lost. IContinue reading “London”
I Don't Know How Old I Was 