May 2012
Me: So we're celebrating my birthday when I get back on the 27th. You better get me something awesome before then.
Sis: Alright.
Me: And yes, I do expect to be purchasing your alcohol from now on.
Sis: Good, because I've been buying from someone named "Breezy Johnston".
sorry, self, for party rocking.
bad day.
my friends
B: Guess what I just ordered.
N: Bread?
B: What? No. How would I order bread?
N: Bread?
B: No! I already said it's not bread. I ordered a kiddie pool.
N: A kitty pool for Marcel?!
April 2012
I got Oliver when I was 6 years old. He was tiny, a bright blue-eyed, fluffy seal-point balinese. He grew quickly, and a lot, until my tiny arms could barely carry him, his legs dangling like a stuffed animal. He never minded. He never minded the doll clothes, or the sticky hands of my baby sister ruffling his fur. I became used to sleeping with his loud purr rumbling at the foot of my bed, or...
In the maze of the windowless antique mall, I can run away, to leaf through the dusty records, the old postcards. I like to read them, to wonder about the sender and recipient, probably long dead. But now, briefly, our lives collide as I read the short messages, hellos to mothers, sisters, friends. How did these exchanges end up here, 40 years later, 50 cents each, thrown into a box? Buddy Holly...
“But you won’t spend the money and you won’t take the train
So...”
– Woods