At the gym, the soundtrack of my younger days is spilling so loudly from the speakers it erases thought, and everybody seems to be running in place. Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time, Nirvana’s Come as You Are, and then — Good God Almighty! — the theme song from Friends. I am lifting weights, but really,Continue reading “The Dance”
This is it, then. The lovely nutmeat of the summer. The musty smell of tomatoes pulled from the vine; the scent of sun-baked dirt before the afternoon’s rain storm. Sweat that teases the hair at the nape of Elder Girleen’s neck into tendrils; the beautiful, enveloping ache of refrigerated air when we finally get theContinue reading “Treading Water: or, The Deep End”
The end of May. The sinister, slightly noirish fragrance, of jasmine, of gardenia — those funereal white flowers that always make me think of Raymond Chandler novels and the L.A. of the thirties — moves toward me in eddies early mornings when I walk through the neighborhood. Overwritten? Yes — but also true. The endContinue reading “Weather Report: May 24, 2010”
Snow flurries 48 hours ago but winter’s at last behind us: when I drove the Girleens to school soon after sunrise this morning the white haze of the Bradford pears hung above the slopes and redoubts of nearby Grant Park like smoke. Trash trees, those Bradford pears, horticulturalists don’t particularly like them. But the exactContinue reading “Weather Report: March 23, 2010”
The tailings of November, when the sky takes on the character of dingy cotton batting and the air smells of newly-cut lumber from the house rising on the corner, and the yellow-and-black sign plunged into the front yard two doors down from it speaks volumes: Bank Owned. Auction. The tailings of November and the treesContinue reading “Weather Report, November 30, 2009”
The truth will out in the end, I suppose — it is 6:24 in the morning, and I don’t need to be here. Here? In front of this computer on a cold Sunday morning when the rest of the family is sleeping. At 6:24 on a Sunday morning, the neighborhood has been divested of itsContinue reading “News from the ‘Hood”
I. Once upon a time, I lived in a boxy, badly-built house with a person with whom I had considerable disagreement over what are surely a relationship’s most important parameters. Should a person wed? Should a person buy a house, hold down a job with more than the minimum responsibilities attached to it, make sureContinue reading “Second Sight (II)”
Rain, still. The cell phone tower on the other side of I-20 is swathed in clouds. Along my morning walk, cardinals eddy upwards, tiny sparks of color amidst the gray. The guy who scavenges cans on recycling day is dressed in gray; trudges through the drizzle head down, hooded like the Grim Reaper.
It’s a rainy day down here in Georgia, and the neighbor said to be a dealer just walked down the street with a proudly unfurled red and white umbrella clutched in one hand.