4/5/6 – Green line, any time of day.

Call me mean but why doesn’t everyone love brushing their teeth?

Like what ideas do you have to have about teeth that you think they don’t deserve to be brushed? You think you can just live and not brush your teeth? No. That’s fucking gross.

If you’re an adult and I have to tell you to blow your nose.                  Don’t make me tell you to blow your nose. Why would you do this?          It is mortifying for both of us. Fuck.

I’ll usually just hand off a box of tissues, but sometimes they say no. They shake me off, like they’re ok. You are not ok. You are dead behind the eyes and need me to tell you to do this very simple thing. I’ll do it. I will be the one to show you the way, and when I do.

You do not make me say it twice. Also, you’re doing life wrong. All of it, all wrong.

How do I live my best life – insulting everyone around me. The homeless, the depraved, the talented, the filthy. The guy holding his calculator staring at it like it’s his phone. Fucking casio, people. That’s real life screen addition. I know I’m a total asshole, but I took eight photos of this guy. Holding his calculator. I imagined him writing boobless because that seemed harmless at first, but no it didn’t end there. He kept checking it every ten seconds… and I improvised his internal dialogue:

“What’d she say?” “What’d she say?”

Even staring at it for some time. “Fuck..She blocked me.”

Look, I’m not proud. But it’s because I am at this lower than low. I can be honest with you, right? It doesn’t get much worse than this so I feel I have a responsibility to be honest with you – a guiding glow if you will, the light at the end of the tunnel you don’t have to go down.

Just when you’re ready to be the worst person you can think of, I show up and say in a soft whisper, “Are you sure?”

“Are you sure you want to hit this old man in the train because he hit your backpack?”

“No. Good. Shut the fuck up. Sit down like the rest of us. No one actually wants to be on the train, so get the fuck over yourself.”


Brass Tacks

BrassTacksWhen one boils things down to the bottom line it can shed light on situations. But there’s a chance that all that beautiful life will be reduced to one word. And people shouldn’t be boxed in by a word, because words fall short, and yet they are all we have. I looked up the etymology of the word broad as it relates to women.

Men used it in early 20th century to refer to women by their figure (broad hips.) “Look at those broads,” signified not only skeletal structure, but suggested that these women were low class.

Trust me that I don’t have many areas of expertise, not even language, but in this passage you will read the quintessential woman’s experience. It’s quite possibly the most entertaining scenario for anyone watching, listening or reading, anyone other than me.

It wasn’t today, nor was it a particular day. I hadn’t been home in a couple of days. I put everything away in its place and set up stations for different activities. One of these things was my vanity table. The mission was to move it to a space under or closer to a top hat light, because it was too dark in it’s current position. However, there in the new perfect spot, shined an empty no-bulb-having top hat. I keep some hats with bulbs and some without, because for a vampire like me, a dimmer is still too much light.

I had successfully made this new make-up station well lighted, only to receive his timely entrance in the middle of the finishing touches. He maybe even lent a hand to move different things as I vacuumed. But later, while I was in the middle of something else, he decided to bring darkness back to my vanity table by unscrewing the light bulb I re-homed and put it back where it was originally. It is then that he called my name so that I could see if I like his new lighting set up better.

After noticing what is blindingly obvious only to me, I just gave him a look. I probably talked down to him; I blacked out from frustration. I am really good at that, blacking out and becoming awful. This doesn’t make me proud. After coming back to life, I remind him that we just moved the vanity into that corner, this time explaining the prime position of the top hat.


When we are to go to sleep here in this home that we don’t live in together, he often lifts the dimmer UP instead of DOWN. This action will always turn the lights to their brightest. I have not come to accept that after hours of sitting with dim lights I am to get blasted with light just before sleep. I freak the fuck out whenever it’s done.

I told him to please put the bulb back, and he did but he also told me his reason for moving it.

“This way (our new AMAZING lighting set up) IT (the brightness coming from the light) won’t be right over your face and blind you. Ya know when I turn the switch the wrong way and make the lights all bright.”

Now none of this truly matters in the grand scheme of things—we are all human. We are silly, and we get high, and shit like this is funny. It makes you wonder how we ever got this stupid, dependent, and weak… We can all have a laugh at each other, right? This is what love looks like and to take part is letting others love us. We should, because even punctuation, a modicum of civilized intelligence, is hard, and we get very distracted.

But what if he doesn’t let it go? What if he tells you for the rest of that night, or as long as he thinks of it, when he thinks of it, that this is how he turns the light off? It isn’t because he won’t or can’t learn, but that this is the way he prefers to turn it off.

“I like to see really bright before it gets dark. It makes everything darker once it’s turned off.”

These are not my words. I couldn’t make this up. If I did, I would criticize that this character lacks believability. I mean ladies and gentlemen, is this possible? Can people be this nuts? Can I be this nuts?

Is this the natural life cycle of men and women’s’ relationships? It’s hilarious and infuriating. Light has been shed, and it boils down to whether we can keep laughing about it. If you can’t, it’s over. Am I describing an impetus to start dating women, or just taking a long time to say that love is a choice, those still laughing have it made, and I am too estranged for my own good.