December 2009
3 posts
Hospital in Connecticut.
We can talk about her like she’s gone now. We can make arrangements and discuss her like a shrinkwrapped package of ham. I’ll cry during a commercial for mops, but this right here is a breeze. She’s not my sister, and she’s not my mother. We can flap around her hospital bed like little birds; convene in the hallway where the tense of her presence changes to past. Maybe I...
Hot Sex and Fear of Being a Daddy.
or… how a vasectomy is starting to look like a good investment.
*(ed note: this was my essay for my final in my “Sociology of the Family” class. The underlined parts are “key points” from our notes, almost verbatim)
My friend Shawn got a vasectomy years ago. His father was a failure, and in our culture that’s not a rare surprise. There are reasons for that....
Heard this happy song that tends to make me cry....