So through most of high school, I was into Paul Simon and Simon & Garfunkel, even his later stuff when he was just having a perpetual mid-life crisis because that’s how he makes money. But I didn’t know, because I was a teenager in the nineties and I didn’t know about all the life that … Continue reading Seven Weeks.
bereavement
Grieving, Post-Quarantine
Numb is a good word. It’s been two and a half weeks since Ricky died, and I am embarking on the long business of wrapping up his life, wrapping up our life. If were able, I would take this slowly, but as it is, my lease ends on June 30, and there’s a lot of … Continue reading Grieving, Post-Quarantine
Grieving in Quarantine: Day 7
So he’s not coming back. I understand this intellectually, as this is the longest we have ever been apart, and I have spent seven days in my apartment without seeing him, without hearing him, without sending him a text message from the bathroom and him getting annoyed about it. I am not asking him what … Continue reading Grieving in Quarantine: Day 7
Grieving in Quarantine: Day 4
This is Cohosh Man. It’s not a man, and it’s not made of cohosh. It’s a sculpture of sorts Ricky made with foam crack filler. The coffee and inhaler make it a still-life. In time, he would become increasingly more dependent on those inhalers. He gave this to me the day that I was flying … Continue reading Grieving in Quarantine: Day 4
Fugitive Umbrellas 
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