Memory

December 2003. I drop him off at his place in Oakland. The damn car is making that stupid noise again. It's the rotors. You should get it looked at. A sharp swallow, holding back the tears that come unbidden. If only I had someone who would help me with that.

November 2002

Rain. So much rain. I loved a guy who was unavailable. We worked together and then he left to work at his girlfriend's company. I walked outside into a waterfall, hoping I would drown.

Today's writing

She couldn’t get away from that weirdly cold internal feeling, the so-what of the emotional world. It was as if she had turned her back on everything and everyone, said fuck you to consequences. It was as if someone had taken a rope and instead of hanging it around her neck, placed it around her heart. She’d been immersed in ice, frozen and dehydrated. Shit, she was one of those packages of dried fucking fruit you found in grocery stores: only healthy on the outside.

Sarah's launch

Compliments

You are a bitch, a whore, and a genius. And one of the best writers I know. 

Today's writing

She stood in the shower for as long as anyone should in drought-intolerant Berkeley, scrubbing, scrubbing. It was two-thirty. She really didn’t have to pick up Lennon for another hour, but lying to Jack seemed to be the least of what she’d done that afternoon.

The guilt was beginning to settle, and it was not light on her shoulders. Bricks felt better, more forgiving. The streak of not having kissed anyone else since hooking up with her husband? Gone. The fidelity she’d maintained all these years? Evaporated. The virtue of doing what one is supposed to do in wedded bliss? Shown to be a complete sham.

Happy Halloween

Baz is on the top step. He didn't want to wear his costume. It's okay. :)