Blameless Produce

"Cash only," says the lady monitoring the self-checkout lanes at the grocery store, to general groans from the sizable number of people already waiting in line. "Machine's down."

One guy, who hasn't even been waiting as long as some of us have, throws up his hands in outrage and slams his groceries, item by item, into a nearby cart, then stalks out.

"Acting like it's the food's fault," the lady mutters as she walks by me, but when I laugh at her joke, she brightens up a little, and gives me a smile.
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One year ago: As Usual
Two years ago: Short Women
Three years ago: Gospel of Thomas, Saying 70
Four years ago: Might Keep Her Warm, Might Not
Seven years ago: This Story Is Missing Some Crucial Element, But I Can't Remember What It Is
Ten years ago: Destroy All Cockroaches

Shower Feelings

"I was sitting on the toilet when I realized I was super depressed," I tell Katie. I'm in the shower, hot water hissing around me, and she's by the sink silently taking out her contacts.

"But then I realized it was my body that was depressed, and that I didn't want my body telling my brain what to think," I continue as I scrub my chest with a soapy pouf.

"Makes sense," Katie says, but I think we're both still a little sad.
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One year ago: Entering
Two years ago: Desperate To Connect
Three years ago: Voyeurism
Four years ago: Good Night
Seven years ago: A Little Not Music
Ten years ago: Out and About

Butterflies Take a Snow Day

"I left the window in my studio open!" Katie cries in dismay. "It's snowing inside!"

I follow her voice into the studio and, sure enough, snow has drifted up against the screen and sifted through, and is now blowing around the tiny, freezing room.

"I was gonna work," she says, shooing me out as she shoves the window closed, "but I guess it's a snow day for everyone."
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One year ago: Invisibility
Two years ago: All For The Best
Three years ago: Last Day of Vacation
Four years ago: Attention to Detail (Taking Things Too Seriously)
Six years ago: God Helps Fools and Drunks, So Don't Expect a Lot of Sympathy
Seven years ago: Cold to Warm
Ten years ago: Asian Pub Rules

Health Bully

I'm feeling well enough to walk the block to the store, but when I get outside, my neighbor takes one look at me and says, "You still don't feel well, do you?"

I admit I don't feel super great, and my landlord, who's also there closing up his shop for the night, says, pointing at my throat, "I still see exposed skin!"

Yes, it's cold, but my neighbor is already on to the next thing: "You need to drink that ginger, garlic, lemon, cayenne tea," she insists.

"You're kind of a health bully," I say, laughing, and she happily agrees.
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One year ago: The Tumor Was Keeping Me Skinny
Two years ago: Tit For Tat
Three years ago: The World We Live In
Four years ago: Why Should a Photo Fade?
Six years ago: It's Really Cold, But Only For Some
Seven years ago: Ascension Day
Ten years ago: Dream A Little Dream

Down With The Sickness

I wake in the morning with a heaviness in my chest, but a half-hour of yoga and breathing exercises, along with a cold shower, seems to get me out of the woods.

Until, after an afternoon of rearranging stuff in our storage space and inventorying the handful of pieces we have left, the train ride back home suddenly goes south.

Muscles begin to cramp, chills, heat behind my eyes, a stabbing headache, and a marked lack of oxygen in the 2 train to Grand Army Plaza all hit at once, and I wonder, for a brief second, if I'm going to die like a small sparrow, shivering in the cold.

I shrink down into my jacket, breathing shallowly, and, as Katie pats me on the shoulder and says, "You're doing really well," I close my eyes.

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One year ago: 5:30 PM

Two years ago: Have They Seen Me Naked?

Three years ago: All One Moment

Four years ago: Never Going Back Again

Six years ago: Shopping With The Visigoths

Seven years ago: You Ever Get The Feeling You've Been Cheated?

Ten years ago: On Why I Am Well Suited For An Artistic Life

Airlock

Even wearing multiple layers (shirt, hoodie, scarf, overcoat, hat, heavy boots), I still feel the frigid cold creeping in as I descend to the vestibule of our building with the doge in my arms like a sack of fur and bones. Her head lolls to one side like her neck is broken, her tongue hangs out, but as soon as I reach the bottom floor and make to set her down, she rights herself and slips out the inner door with only a slight lopside to her lope. 

Through the window, I see the empty New Year's street, asphalt dry and white with cold, void of cars and sidewalk scattered with salt. The doge and I stand at the glass, my breath shaping clouds of vapor in the air, and consider our lack of options, steeling ourselves for the stinging chill as I open the door to let us out into the night.

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One year ago: She Doesn't Have Pockets

Two years ago: Could Be Into More Than One Thing

Three years ago: Salty Teeth

Four years ago: I Believe You Have Something Of Mine

Six years ago: A New Kind of New Year

Seven years ago: We Ended Up Straightening Up a Little

Ten years ago: A Tiger, A Jacket

The Slow Procession of Winter

The in-flight movie I picked ("Atomic Blonde", a solid "B") is over, and I'm listening to a playlist I found on my phone that makes it seem like 1994 or so all over again.

I look out the window, and see the ground far below us covered in snow glowing pale in the moonlight. The occasional town sprouts from the earth like a bacterial growth or a computer chip, reaching out brilliant, glittering tendrils into the darkness of the surrounding countryside.

In between, there are rivers that divide the snow-covered surface and the cities, and the rivers snake and splinter through the frozen landscape while we hurtle through the air far above, hardly related to anything going on below in any way at all, when all of a sudden a song comes on, and everything makes sense.
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One year ago: Good Job
Two year ago: Ivory Soap
Ten years ago: So This Is The New Year