Author Archives: didofoot
The Principle Is Sound
At the front of the room, the D.J. is having a loving relationship with his moog, an instrument which as far as I can tell was invented for my generation, like sex and Crystal Pepsi. He turns the dials of the moog and it beeps and burbles happily over the arrhythmic thumping blasting from the … Continue reading
No Name #226
One of my old favorite boys introduced me to the poetry of Rimbaud when I was twenty. I still idly flip through Rimbaud collections when I find myself in bookstores, hoping that the news of my fidelity will travel back to that boy along the universal psychic pipeline. Then last night in lecture, my professor … Continue reading
POI
In the immortal words of the Princess Cinderella, a dream is a wish your heart makes. In this case, though, my dream was a wish my mouth made, repeatedly, mostly to watch the Lad wince and squirm. And then last night, my dream was a wish that the Lad made come true. Yes, it’s true. … Continue reading
My quiet beach community
I often think of how someday the Lad and I will marry and live in a quiet beach community and have a couple of rowdy kids. One day, I will be cooking spaghetti and singing to August and Everything After when the Lad will walk in with Adam Duritz, whom he has befriended through his … Continue reading
Wider and wider
My teeth are gapping. The tiny cracks between my teeth, which are perfectly normal and natural, are slowly widening as I sleep. Every morning I take a tiny tape measure and examine the progression, the continental drift of my teeth. Tiny bacteria clad in woolly mammoth skins are shaking spears and migrating slowly from molar … Continue reading
Date date date
I met up with the Sicilian on Wednesday night to deliver my annual report. In all the fuss and bother of being broken up with and then nursing my sputtering fantasies of revenge for two years, I had forgotten how much I really do like him and we had a quite a nice time I … Continue reading
Carthage turns two
I’m sitting at a precariously tilted cafe table on a precariously tilted sidewalk. My coffee cup is full and I have my laptop in front of me. I’m making bets with myself as to how long this will take to go horribly wrong. It seems fitting to celebrate Carthage’s entry into her terrible twos by … Continue reading
Still in Tucson
I think we should get formal pictures taken, I say. Formal pictures? You mean, like, with sequins? And a corsage? No. Like with a photography studio in Sears. The Lad grimaces predictably. But why would we want pictures of ourselves looking fake? he says. We are a beautiful couple, I tell him sternly. The world … Continue reading
Dog Dream
I’m in Tucson today. I was thinking how I would go there for grad school and drag the Lad with me and he and I would get a little house up in the hills just outside of the city. It would go like this: Our kitchen is painted yellow. The house is NOT filled with … Continue reading
Michele
Happy birthday, pretty bird. I love you and all that you stand for. Communist.