“Hold on, there’s something you should hear. It isn’t much, but it took all year,” — Jonathan Larson, RENT. March 2020. A mysterious illness flattens me. Never diagnosed. I don’t…
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July 2020. Before dawn. I start a pot of hot black coffee. Wait for my divorce from Jasper to go through. Spill coffee on the tiny black tile of the…
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A Monster Energy Drink chugged. Chocolate and Sea Salt RxBars. Tortilla chips. All I’ve eaten in recent memory. I don’t remember things the same way that I used to. It’s…
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“Here where I stand at the turning of the years,” Les Misérables wails from bedside Echo Dot. New Years morning. 2020. I stare at the brightening ceiling for hours. Mind…
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The Sunday of Valentine’s wake I wake up a-flutter. My ride or die wife by my side. She snores as AHS: Hotel screams from the TV at the foot of…
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“It’ll be a Blue Christmas without you,” sings Elvis on the TicTok I make of my synthetic Christmas tree. The iPhone camera swirls around glittering orbs. Settles on a commemorative…
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I jolt awake sharply at dawn. Afraid. Turmoil in my stomach and brainstem from too much day-old cold coffee. A marijuana vape I sucked down yesterday in a bid for…
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“Don’t call it a comeback,” raps LL Cool J. This summer the “Dining with a Cursed Bloodline,” column ended like a Disney Classic Movie. Marriage. Happily Ever After. Roll credits.…
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Lana del Rey’s new single “Looking for America,” brings me to tears on first listen. Like her, the America I once naively believed in was only a myth. Patriotism shattered…
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I had one great love now gone. Who I thought would forever haunt me. This intensity of my love for Jasper waxes almost to eclipse her. Allows me compartmentalize. Block…
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The moon waxes in Libra to full Strawberry moon. High summer. I remember vividly the 2016 Strawberry moon. Los Angeles. My boyfriend and I gobbled succulent Barbacoa quesadillas. I stayed…
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“Fast away the New Year passes.” I hear sifting through profiles. Swiping my phone with sweaty hands. Interviewing every queer in Reno not frightened of me. It’s on like Donkey…
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I am furious. I am ferocious. My rage could devour the world. It is not appropriate to express. Other than to my therapist. For one hour. Once a week. Perhaps…
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1976: This cursed bloodline begat me. Cries at cold air. The beginnings of pain. 1979: Health freak mother teaches me that soda pop and the red cherries on top of…
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