An Interview about Love & Loss

princess and rabbit

What do you want from me?
I want to write.
What do you want to write about?
Love and Loss.
Why?
Love and Loss are acquaintances of mine.
How do you know them?
I am Hope, Love’s sister.

What is love like?
She is contentious, friendly most of the time even on a bad day. Love has features that are adorable. Her cheeks are soft and eyes are responsive. She is aware of the needs of others. She’d grab a chair and bring it into a crowded room for a stranger who needs a place to sit. She enjoys being cherished, though, which I suppose is a weakness. She is nice and needs niceness like a fire burning up paper.

What is Loss like?
Loss is miserable. Ultimately wants to forget so that he doesn’t have to feel miserable anymore. He spends his time on opiates listening to music on the crystal radio. He has no mother, no father, and no family to speak of. He works on a neighbor’s farm and picks potatoes.

And Love, does she know Loss?
Not yet, they will meet at the end of the story though. The state of misery that Loss feels keeps him for seeing that Love is out there, but lucky for him Love sees him.

Love has a mother that is more interested in the flowers in the garden than the light that children bring into the home. Love’s mother is irritable and disinterested and her father works at a factory supervising women making men’s dress shirts. Love spends her childhood waiting for bigger things, imagining foreign worlds, dreaming of the day she’ll meet Amelia Earhart in person.

Why is Loss miserable?
Loss is miserable because he hasn’t learned how not to be. He has had no role models and not traveled elsewhere. His vision is limited to the walls he constructs around himself. His selfishness is unknown to him. He believes the degrading way he treats himself and others is because he, and they, deserve it. He lacks a soothingness necessary for learning a better self.

How will Loss let Love come into his life?
Loss has childhood memories of his Grandfather who was a carpenter and worked in big beautiful mansions. His grandfather was very gentle and treated Loss with respect. When Loss was in the room with his Grandpa, his Grandpa was aware of him and sent him praise. Events must unfold in order for Loss to crack the container he built around himself, without his misery there would be no chance for improvement.

Is Loss a bad guy?
Not at all, he is just misunderstood and always alone.

What events crack the seed of Loss?
Rumors of Love’s interest came first; like a whisper. Then a child appeared, seven-years-old or so. The seven-year-old was Love’s younger sister Hope.

Hope wore a dirty dress with faded flowers. Loss was in a second story apartment complex, lying in bed, listening to the birds outside the open window.

Hope was tossing stones from a street corner into a trashcan. Each stone made enough noise to cause Loss to look out the window, when the pane shattered beside him.

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Intellectual Sisterhood

Coffeebeans

What if texting could be like our days of letter writing?
And we talk about bullshit and enjoy our brain connection.

We were intellectual and artistic
and the world fueled our spite,
we spit-fired feminist in Austin Texas of 1998.

I would sketch like Vonnegut and wordsmith to you,
and you would wordsmith back,
Like our own private open mic night.

We ate music
and breathed in Camel Light cigarettes
while listening to Sonic Youth and talking Leonard Cohen.

Our heads thought of Lousie Erdrich,
and of other things rich in texture:
– Freshly baked sourdough loaf being torn apart
– Shoplifted white wine
– Green apples, to help smooth the sharp Chardonnay

You inspired me and I don’t remember telling you that –
and I feel a bit of sadness,
that we have been letting our age get the better of us.

I can’t wait for your visit
(and) I fear it as well
because I fear I’ll lose you
to being a grown-up,
and I miss you most,
and our intellectual sisterhood.

It is almost springtime and we’ve joined an airstream rally with my husband’s parents. Frogs croak and the sounds of the ocean waves roll in. My son stands beside me on a covered porch asking “What’s that sound?” and “Why you have a flashlight on your head?”

“Those are frogs croaking,” I said and pointed to my left. “That other sound you hear is from the ocean. The waves are rolling in.”

I explained having a flashlight strapped on my head, “So I that I can write in the dark.” I’m not sure what scared him most, the idea of frogs being vocal in an unseen darkness, the concept of an ocean’s waves coming, or his mother’s sudden place in the darkness. The look on his face was perplexed. His next question was bigger still, “Where does the water come from?” he asked.

I was overcoming another sunless winter and left its bed unmade. I crept out of it, feeling a lift in m mood because my son is adorable.

Recognizing the Signs of Assholism

Photo on 2015-01-03 at 11.20

Avoid assholes, and most importantly, avoid being an asshole. If you wonder whether you’re dealing with an asshole, chances are you might be. Assholes like to blame everyone else around them. Assholes like to suck the joy out of the day. Assholes like to show you how much of an asshole they are, and they have no regret in doing so.

Do you ever wonder if you are an asshole?

Top Signs You Just Might Be an Asshole:

  1. You honked your horn and flipped someone off for turning too slowly, even though the left lane was clear and you could have just gotten over.
  2. You make an excuse after having apologized.
  3. You make excuses. Lots of them.
  4. You complain when someone does something different.
  5. You judge others, nitpicking how you could have done something better. (I’m guilty of this.)
  6. Your boss provides feedback that you appear overly defensive and unable to accept feedback. And you prove her right—without even realizing it.
  7. People don’t invite you places and you demand to know why.
  8. You think how much you hate people, all the time.
  9. You put yourself above all others, and why wouldn’t you? You’re the smart one.
  10. You imagine beating the faces of people in, and would rejoice at their suffering.

If you said yes to six or more of these, you may just be an Asshole. But do you care? If #’s 9 and 10 don’t resonate with you then there is hope for you.

How to Not to Be an Asshole:

  1. Imagine that your mother is the janitor of the bathroom when you’re about to toss your trash onto the ground. (And don’t throw it on the ground.)
  2. Realize we are all the same, making the same dumb-ass mistakes.
  3. Pretend your child is in front of you when you are impatient and huffing loudly, shifting your feet, in the grocery store aisle because the cashier is slow. (It also helps to pretend your mother is the cashier.)
  4. Want become a better person. It doesn’t feel good to get honked at (see tip # 2).
  5. Acknowledge when you make a mistake; having knowledge of your own inadequacies help you relate to others.
  6. Think and talk about how you could have done something better.
  7. Do it better next time.
  8. Try.
  9. Try harder.
  10. Allow yourself to laugh.

Write what you know.

snowday

It has been said to write what you know. I take this to mean ‘to describe’. So I describe.

Sometimes when I write and describe, it has to do with my childhood, but that makes me feel self-conscious, which to me is like a drink of sour milk or the smell of dog breath. Other times when I write, I break down what I know about a modern moment of my life. I see it as counter balance to all that dreaded history that vomits up like flowers and nails.

I know that I love to listen to music in headphones while I write. I like music loud. I may be sacrificing my hearing in my future old age self.

Practice determination to put yourself out in the world. I write and keep this nonsense Blog to make myself work for what I want and keep on thinking, what’s life if not to live and enjoy every goddamn moment of it. I love to compose words,  so I write.

(The child in me wants affirmation though, but I won’t give in to her tonight.)

Write what I know.

I know I am worried about my dog Tucker, who is as sweet as can be all the time. The sweetest dog on earth, seriously. She is eleven or twelve already and I can tell something is bothering her. With sad eyes lately, she seems slower and in pain sometimes. I’m taking her to the vet tomorrow.

I know that I’m wearing sock that feel like thin and cheap crap. I must have purchased them from Target. I wish nice socks weren’t such an expensive item. It is a small bit of pleasure to have expensive socks that cushion and hug on your feet.

I know that I’ve recently started chilling my pint glasses and drinking beer out of them with a beer koozie. A little class and trash. That’s how I like everything, really.

I know too many ‘I’s’ in a piece of writing is terribly vain and unprofessional. Sorry for that.