She had two children, Alice and Mark, but she wanted a baby all her own. The realities of human reproduction—that someone else would always have a claim to her very hardest work, that no matter what the law says about sperm donors and vanished fathers, there would always be a man out there, dead or alive, feeling smug—these realities were a constant source of pain and made her dislike her children.
he tells me he’s going to new york next weekend and i say what a coincidence, me too. he says it’s for a job interview, which doesn’t make sense, but i don’t push it. he doesn’t answer a single question about the interview or his plans. i know it’s about to be over. i’d been trying to get him to visit me,
In the 1980s,
crack flowed from the hands
of the evil warlord Colonel Oliver North.
It trickled down like a real reign
dissolving on the hot city asphalt
in an alchemical reaction.
Cocaine liberated.
Free from its salty shackles.
Free to ravage the townships of Man.
Free samples, pay later.
Free fire order in the War on Drugs.
Free all them niggaz.
I was a staff writer for a website that no longer exists. By the end I just put together affiliate links we called articles. 10 Things You’ll Actually Use This Summer. The New Kitchen Essentials. Sneakers You’ll Actually Wear.
It was bad, but wasn’t all terrible. An article I wrote about an affair Albert Camus had with a French barmaid and the funny, tragic letters they exchanged went viral in 2009.