Posts tagged ‘Life’
Excerpt from “Who Wants to Marry a Savant?”
My heart is the size of a whale—not a whale’s heart—an actual whale.
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Excerpt from “Who Wants to Marry a Savant?”
As he drove us to Aberdeen to meet a potential client, Carl philosophized: “The opposite of love isn’t hate, Angie.”
“Well, duh. I know that. But what is the opposite of love? I’ve thought about this often without coming close to an answer. It isn’t hate or even lust or rage or cruelty. What the fuck is it?!” I enjoyed sprinkling expletives into our dialogue because, as a Mormon, Carl would always squirm at least a little. At the time, I reveled in the fact that I wielded that kind of power over a man who’d never fuck me.
“Apathy.” Carl sighed. “When she told me she wanted a divorce, Karen explained she had simply ‘fallen out of love’ with me. Everyone thinks she was cheating, but it wasn’t that at all. She didn’t necessarily want to have sex with someone else. She just didn’t ever want to make love to me again.”
“Wow. I’m sorry.” What could I say? He hit the nail on the head: the opposite of love is apathy.
Carl’s profound insight forced me into introspection. I had endured the entire gamut of emotions in my current relationship, save for one. I was utterly incapable of feeling indifferent toward him. I would always be in love with him.
It suddenly made sense why he’d inspired both the meanest and sweetest poems I’d ever written.
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Excerpt from “Who Wants to Marry a Savant?”
When the fuck did I become a feminist who fantasizes about being a stay-at-home mom?
Sure, I understand that those identities aren’t mutually exclusive. However, the depth of my longing for that lifestyle absolutely confounds me.
I mean, I felt beyond relieved when I made it to 30 without getting knocked up or hitched. In fact, it used to really turn me off when men (or women, for that matter) seemed too focused on marriage and procreation, those loathsome heteronormative constructs.
I guess I’m at a different point in my life now. A point where my biological clock and socioprofessional disdain have converged.
This juncture distresses me on an existential level: more than ever, I don’t feel like the captain of my own voyage.
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Excerpt from “Who Wants to Marry a Savant?”
I was attempting to work on the manuscript for Men Behaving Badly when Edgar showed up unannounced (as per usual). I never minded his spontaneous visits, and I didn’t realize—until it was too late—how much I looked forward to them. He plopped down in his usual spot on the futon.
“You know, Edgar, I misunderstood the saying that revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“Have you been reading Stieg Larsson lately?”
“I don’t just get these ideas from literature and film. Give me some credit, man!”
“I always do.”
“You’re right. But, yeah, I just figured out what it meant right before you came over.”
“What did you think it meant?”
“I used to think it meant that it’s best to avenge a wrong as ruthlessly and with as cold a heart as possible.” I paused pregnantly.
“But I just realized the coldness relates to the passage of time.”
“I think you’re right on both counts, actually.” Edgar nodded pensively. “Of course, if you want to get revenge through the justice system, coldness isn’t so desirable what with statutes of limitation and all.”
“Fuck statutes! What these guys have in store is extra-legal (but neither illegal nor violent…we have too much to lose, and we’re more creative than that). Their lives will transform overnight without the slightest notice. Just like mine did. But, unlike me, they will have no recourse.”
“Sounds delicious.” Edgar’s pupils dilated with interest. “It’s been over 10 years. When can we get started?”
“We already have.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m sure it has something to do with sending Tex that letter reminding him he’d have to pass the Moral Character Evaluation to become an attorney.”
“Nope. That was just our public duty and has nothing to do with revenge. That’s why we sent it as soon as we discovered his plan to follow his father’s footsteps at Harvard Law School. Not part of the revenge. No need to serve cold. Hey, wanna drink?” I gestured toward the kitchen.
“Sure, thanks.” Edgar popped the cork off my half-full bottle of pinot noir. “So, what’s next with respect to revenge?”
“There’re some clean glasses in the sink.”
“Coolness.” Edgar split the remainder of the bottle between the two of us. “I’m all ears.”
“How far can you run without stopping? How much can you bench press, squat, or the equivalent?”
“I thought you just said this wouldn’t involve violence or criminality?”
“Oh, it won’t. We just need to be and look like we’re in tip-top shape. We just need to signal that we’re as formidable physically as we are intellectually and psychologically.”
“In that case, I’ve got my work cut out for me. But I’m game. Tell me more.” He raised his glass and smiled with boundless intrigue.
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Excerpt from “Safe Mode”
The opposite of numb (but perhaps with the same result), I plunged so deeply into depression I couldn’t:
drive myself home
pick up a fork
wash my hair
erase my smeared makeup
brush my teeth
swallow 150 mg of relief
pack a bowl
check Facebook
cry
pray
masturbate.
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Double Back Flip on Crappy Diving Board with Torn Meniscus
“Me doing a double back flip with a torn [meniscus] on a crappy diving board at Turner Falls in Oklahoma.”
-Alex Davis, July 28, 2008
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Help Wanted (2015)
See also “Help Wanted (2010)”
This California Professional
Feels like Tom Hanks in Big
Dreams of flying and purging
Is at once worldly and naïve
Lacks bargaining power
Needs agency.
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Excerpt from “Safe Mode”
Like a tulip shoved under a giant heat lamp, my upper body wilts beneath yet another wave of depression and grief. More than five years have passed since Lisa’s death, but I’ve become increasingly unable to withstand her absence.
I spend the next six hours coding, hoping this attempt to shed the blues (so blue it’s black) may result in productivity. I find myself humming a tune the oldies station hasn’t played in years:
Please lock me away
And don’t allow the day
Here inside, where I hide with my loneliness
I don’t care what they say, I won’t stay
In a world without love
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Excerpt from “Who Wants to Marry a Savant?”
Having endured over 30 years of alternating waves of adversity and prosperity, I thought I had figured out at least a few things–particularly my sexuality.
While I appreciated the dynamic nature of sexuality, I also felt my sexual orientation had essentially congealed by that point. In other words, I thought I pretty much knew where I stood along the sexuality spectrum.
But the more I got to know Rachael, the more aware I became of the most painful irony: as my biological clock began to chime, I grew exponentially more attracted to women.
The Lollygabber 
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