Ode/Apologia to/for My Body
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 27, 2022
What’s worse than a cold bathroom? The Holocaust. That’s it.
Happy Birthday to Me. I'm 53. I Feel Old.
This past year, the year of the pandemic, is the year I grew old.
A Troubling Hare
I have a lot of problems. Let me restate that. A lot of problems have me. Having a problem is an illusion. It implies I have control over that problem. I don’t. The problem has control over me.
I Am Constantly Relearning How to Love my Body
Sometimes I take selfies and I post them on the internet. I wonder if people will think I’m vain, but then I think that liking my appearance enough to be vain is itself a kind of victory.
September 10, henceforth, shall be known as the Day of Broken Promises. It’ll be recognized as the day we all make promises none of us will keep. Because what is divorce if not a reneging on promises made to the person you once loved more than anyone else in front of all the runner ups?