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: Maine
Summer
There was an interview with Sinead O’Connor in the New York Times today. She’s living on a mountaintop. She has friends: other single women. Neighbors. Sinead is the patron saint of abused girls everywhere. She just is. To me. A Joan of Arc-like figure, splendid and unbroken. It’s summer and in the summer I likeContinue reading “Summer”
I am here and so are you
I got my vaccination the other day–the first one. It was a warm day and I walked. I showed the doctor my black and blue wrist from when I fell off a ladder the day before. Sheet rocking: we confirmed it’s dangerous. My wrist is OK, I think. The vaccination didn’t hurt a bit. IContinue reading “I am here and so are you”
Spring
The other night, sipping wine, a cheap red, I wished someone would take me out to dinner. New flavors, new conversation. I felt like mango: maybe some kind of mango relish…And I thought but what does that entail? Afterwards I express my approval with my body. Or not. Is that what dating is? I can’tContinue reading “Spring”
This Silence
Some days I want to come back here to write–I think I should–but the silence is so complete it’s like a bubble I don’t want to pop. Even if it’s just words typed on a page. And I wonder how many people are feeling this silence right now, or their own silence: this silence, thatContinue reading “This Silence”
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”
Daily
This morning drinking coffee, reading emails. Jobs I don’t want. Stuff I should buy. Publisher’s Clearing House, telling me to head over to their website and play their games like I did yesterday, for a minute. A couple of minutes. Just enough time to enter the sweepstakes: $7,000 a week for life. And I thought:Continue reading “Daily”
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”
Oregano, Mother
Making a tuna melt. It’s not really a tuna melt, because there’s no cheese. I’m a vegan who sometimes eats fish and sometimes also cheese, but never in tuna melts. It is what it is. (You can laugh. I do.) I decide to change up the seasoning: sprinkled oregano. And I’m reminded of my mother,Continue reading “Oregano, Mother”
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”
I Don't Know How Old I Was 