Thursday, January 13, 2011


Alone. The feeling is emancipating. It’s never lonely.

When the weepy August sun smeared across the red walls in my living room, I just breathed. Closed my eyes. Like a penny drop in a well- deep and hollow and beautiful, I just breathed. Somehow I could feel my way through the chaos of the inland humidity and broken manners of lewd, uneducated people. I started to untangle the wadded mass of laughter, manipulation, relaxation, frustration, great sex, awful sex, summer and winter, contentment and the stir crazy rattles- I managed to piece it all together. Just for a few fleeting , courageous moments. This clarity is what I was chasing, but it was always just inches from my trembling fingertips. But that afternoon, it was nearer than ever. I could not allow it to recede again and be swallowed by the frigid northern cavity of desperate waters. I was terrified that, even if I managed to grab it, I would ruin or misplace it.

This was why I had to break the liquor bottles into disarrayed shards on the sidewalk and head back in a blur to the house to quickly pack my bags.

When I walked back through the front door into the living room, he was standing there- fucking up the beautiful red, sundrenched portrait of solace. Ugh, I should not have disposed of all that alcohol. I contemplated heading back out and carefully licking it off of the green and clear glass. I had anticipated that he would have stayed away longer than twenty ridiculous minutes after the enormous, screaming blowout we had just endured between the red walls, hardwood floors, and jittery cats.

I had anticipated being long gone by time he returned. But, there we were. He gave me his disgusted, lip-curled sneer, and a roll of the eyes that said “You are such a lush.” I didn’t want to let him get the first word out. I knew, judging by well-known sneer and the pungent scent kaleidoscope of vodka, coconut rum, Irish whiskey, gin, raspberry brandy, Bailey’s and lemondrop schnapps and god-knows what else. So, I had to say the only thing that I knew would send him directly back through the back door and buy me another twenty minutes. “I didn’t want to have that baby, okay? Just deal with it.” As brutal and grim as it sounded slipping through my uncouth lips, I felt a surge of power going through my cheeks.

Just as I had calculated, his face paled and he traced his steps wordlessly towards the backdoor, just barely mumbling, “Bitch” under his defeated breath. Maybe I had wanted that baby. I didn’t care about it right now. He was gone and I was throwing my bag over my shoulder and heading out of the front door and kneeling on the sidewalk searching through the broken pieces for a few drops of relief.


  1. Amazing stuff, just discovered this blog.

  2. thank you paul! i'm a runner too btw :)

  3. Paul could be my younger Brit alter ego