I remember the priority of my grandmother when I arrived in Florida at barely 22 was to get me a handicapped sign!
Even if I would have done better to pretend it was the best idea in the world, just like starving me, forcing to me start grad school when I was ill, asking her doctor to put me on the pill, I wasn’t too enthused.
Nor was I when two years ago a lot of people thought I should go on disability — now don’t get me wrong if I was the Yes-man to their Trumpism my life would…
I texted you to ascertain what became of my stimulus check that day so long ago — March 17 to be exact — in other words St. Patrick’s Day. But where was my money? My pot of gold had gone to line someone’s else pockets.
Multiple times I had attempted to open an account. I was optimistic I suppose in thinking your bank was as it purported to be —
Nothing could seem more fake or false, however.
I fell for your carefully constructed mirage, Angelo, hook line and sinker.
Even after I wrote a review about the fatality of…
I wish that all the homeless in the entire country could protest Jenner’s campaign because I have been on the front lines and seen all the trans and LGBQTIA+ youth…
I remember when the song “Wrecking Ball” would come on the radio on the bus from the French country. Back then I was never able to sleep thinking of you. I felt like a wrecking ball and sometimes wonder if you wrote that song because you were even more so.
Once someone warned me that you were an asshole but I never once felt or believed you were one.
I had visions of you in a prison jumpsuit but convinced myself you were a super-saiyan and not a manipulative douchelord or worse.
Lots of times any given day recently I…
I remember the way I felt spiritually protected when you were in the same house — like a guardian watching over me. That night I made fun of your mistakes and errors with basic grammar because I felt it was inappropriate for you to make me feel so loved, or something. I don’t think you were flirting? It was something else. For some reason I was standing up for or defending a man who would rape me later that summer.
You both were the surge of ruptures that would define my existence in unspoken ways.
“They call it sleeping with…
Back when I worked as a teacher I used to feel just like Big Bird — yellow is the self-less love and service chakra, the solar plexus — and walking down the street adults sometimes don’t like a fluffy, sweet character.
Honestly my favorite Parisian of all time is Natalie Clifford Barney and I’ve been gifted a lot of the dinosoar-colored Barney clothes. Even Adam Gopnik in Paris to the Moon writes about “Barney,” but not the radical lesbian one. The way children love Barney though not adults.
When I worked as a teacher in France not a single child…
Recently in quite serious contexts I saw group ‘admins’ delete posts for once the word ‘hood’ and another the word ‘cunt’.
The reasons cited were spurious at best — in both cases even if the content were perfectly valid the censors exploited ‘a word’ to abuse power and go on the wrong side of history.
I became so upset when my post about a lost cat was censored. Simply because he was a hood cat, as hard and different and difficult as that sounds. But it’s true and real.
Oliver Stone kept the rats and mice away. One day he…
It is Fair Housing Month in Naperville and I would like to share a few anecdotal perspectives on this notion.
It is crazy to think how many died before Ogden was paved into a highway: it started as a trail first made by Native Americans.
Now I get the obtuse, fat (in French fat means to give oneself too much self-importance, to be ridiculous as such) word play of the Napervillians but I don’t feel it is intentional.
If Native American protestors were “thrown down” tipis, whiskey, et al in the seventies on what basis can the place claim to…
I was cleaning out the fridge, it’s violent you know how much stuff we throw away!
In the process I found a green baby caterpillar.
Cleaning the fridge I looked away and in a flash he was gone, drowning in water in a small puddle.
So I ran him outside on a paper towel in the sun and waited for him to stir back into life. The wait seemed like an eternity but he came back. When I checked on him later he didn’t seem so good for it was cold.
I put him on a glass lid with some…
La France arrachant ses archives à la nuit des temps.