Wedding Review

The bride’s dress was not a hit. It had a kind of costumey texture to it, a fabric that was practically plastic. I imagined the guests going to town on that one, the real highlight of their night. The dress seemed somehow separate from the bride, a person I guessed was uncomfortable in costume, she looked so charmingly relaxed. She was embracing an essential element of weddings: uncreative children playing dress-up.

Most of the night, I worked as bar back. One of the cocktails involved a basil-leaf garnish, which I would place in my palm and then slap before dropping it in the coupe glass. Somebody said the coupe was modeled after Marie Antoinette’s breasts, and we were reminded she was only a child.

At the end of the night some raccoons came around, attracted by the scraps. I began to overcome my fear of them, forcing myself to forget about their claws. One of them was a mother. Someone remarked on the way the babies’ heads would all move at the same time, and it was true: they remained such a part of their mother, like snakes on a gorgon’s head.

In addition to several bottles of wine, I went home with the leftover basil.

Vertical Triptych

Alone

Has anyone watched the Mike Leigh movie Another Year? Couples are really oppressive, right?

Rant

I’m sick of hearing our leaders whine about how they don’t have any money. As if these creeps have any clue what it’s like to be broke.

Haven’t we as a human race outgrown this idea of money? Why do we limit ourselves by being chained to a system of exchange that’s so antiquated, arbitrary, and maddeningly abstract? We have the resources; lack should not be an option. As hard as it may be to remember, we also have the intelligence and the capacity for generosity.

Our leaders’ lack of creativity is criminal. But then nothing dulls the creative spirit quite like the dream of the dollar. All I can think about right now is payday, and as you can probably tell, my writing is SUFFERING.

End the monetary system now!

An onion rolls into a natural foods store . . .

I recently finished printing a broadside that features the story of a cute little onion lost in the vast, chaotic hell of Whole Foods. You can look at it here.

A broadside, in case you're wondering, is a print where text takes precedent over image, sometimes to the point where words and letters loosen a bit from their meanings. My broadsides are less experimental than many in that I pretty much stick to blocks of prose. But I still love the tension that happens between a story's content and the contexts that form around its visual presentation.

There are a bunch of other broadsides posted over at my website.

Vertical Diptych

The Waiting Room

There is a call light system at my work. Do you know what a call light system is?

It’s a panel with several buttons and little red lights with names stamped out on labeling tape next to each. For example, if you were a therapist named Loranne Ott, a patient would push the button next to your name to let you know she’s in the waiting room. Then, when you escort her into your office, you probably have a switch or something to illuminate your red light and signal that you're currently with a patient. I don’t know— I’m not a therapist, although I’ve enjoyed going to therapy during those times when I could afford it.

I work for a magazine, our office only slightly larger than the therapists’, and dingy enough for us to discourage anyone from visiting. When I get there in the morning, there’s jasmine growing in the courtyard and strange chunks of concrete which I believe are sculptures (this is in Berkeley). I deactivate the alarm and proceed to the waiting room, where I turn on the long warm hush of the sound machine.

Do you know what a sound machine is?