checkbook memoir

In his lifetime, my dad donated about $300 to Jesse Helms. Jesse Helms.  That racist from North Carolina. 
He also purchased a burnt down shack from the Rockledge Veterans’ Association. This became the garage in which I would ride bikes. 
Some parents leave journals and photos, a means to the secret meat of their lives. My dad just [...]

self-loving

I declared myself a strong, political woman who wasn’t going to take any shit; in fact, I was so competent that I would sigh and pay off the gas bill when my man forgot to do it, to prove I was stronger than he was. My feminism had identified the material and cultural restrictions that [...]

left, left, right to the ladies’ lounge…

I am at the Tea Lounge in Park Slope listening to some misguided jazz/fusion musicians destroy my concentration on the essay that came to me last night at Tiffany’s: aptly, “Taking a Shit in Tiffany’s.”
Shannon, Cat, and I went to Tiffany’s last night. Primary mission: use the bathroom. It was cold out and New York [...]

adverbs

Yes, I am directionless, but that doesn’t mean I’m sorry for it. 
I was the ideal little adult when I was ten, I could tell you the whole plan but now my frontal lobe has her legs spread all over the internet, vertical clit hood piercing, stud that says “hi, mom!” I look best in Easter [...]

Sunny Bones, though.

I hear keys down the hall so I know it’s not you coming home from rehearsal and my feet freeze in these argyle socks that once belonged to Molly’s great uncle and I’m feeling that old fear of writer’s block again, not sure why, but I guess that’s where this free write comes in– free [...]

resolve-ed.

Things I dislike: that I can’t say because my ex-girlfriend is from Pocatello when I tell his family about the Basque french toast in Wendell because that means I chisel out another closet that I’m already standing in but that’s besides the point, maybe, I should stop worrying about the subsequent novel // personal history, maybe, [...]

personal // political (thoughts // fog)

 What feminism– or, more accurately, the way I understood the feminist books I was reading– didn’t help me with was maintaining my interpersonal strength with men. I had a way to “be strong”– I’d say, “I’m a feminist, that’s sexist, I don’t need you or marriage!”– but I had my real feelings about men, which [...]