I have one shift per week that’s 9-5.
I don’t particularly like it.
It’s there to keep me honest.
And allow others to attend church.
I’m full of grace like that, yo.
All posts by Ro
I Am Not My Job
The tread marks are leaving a distinct pattern. I’m more invested in this job as a concept than almost anything else I’ve done. It just makes sense. People want good customer service and I’m there to provide it, within set limits. A jovial messenger, I deliver news equally whether good or bad. If the worst thing that happens to you today is not eating at a fancy restaurant on short notice, that’s a pretty good day. Continue reading I Am Not My Job
Partly Cloudy
I’m a boy today. It’s the only way I could get out of the house this morning. Having a fit of insecurity summoned my maleness to stop caring about stupid shit. Donning a man’s shirt I ran a comb through my hair and decided to not care what people see. I’m not manly in many ways but there is a swagger I can pull together. Like a gymnast. Or a jockey. I’ve accepted my status as a butter face. Continue reading Partly Cloudy
On Occasion
Sometimes my cat finds a toy mouse and remembers.
She has a grand time.
Then I notice.
….
The older she gets, the less she cares.
As I’d learn, he was my excuse for not wanting to go home. The boys in my life are traditionally buffers against the women who hate me. Not literally, but that’s the sum of it. My father never protected me from my mother so I look for solace in the dominant male presence. I know they have the ability to cut down inflated female egos, especially when they are pretty. I can cut down a bitch in the mean way. The don’t-get-back-up way. Continue reading
Neighborhoods
Before I lived in Memphis, our family spent some time in St. Louis. An idyllic suburban neighborhood where kids from the entire block played in the streets and families got together on weekends for cookouts and pool parties. My best friend was a boy my age named Matthew. Continue reading Neighborhoods
You must be Trippin
I’m a seed. That’s what I’ve learned. I’m a seed that’s been planted in Seattle. I’ve taken root. I’m in a spot I can maintain, at least for now. Even more than that, I have garden space to plant more seeds. Enough room to house someone I really like. Though, not many people fit that description. But if that someone wanted to give Seattle a go, I’ve got a place to temporarily house them. Most of the people I like could even get a job at the Space Needle. To start, at least.
Right now this list only has one person on it. They know who they are. Continue reading You must be Trippin
I Like My Whiskey Extra Cold
Tonight, I told a story about sexual abuse. I kind of wish I didn’t. It wasn’t an easy thing to express. In words, I can craft my meaning with context. In person, I have to rely on tone and facial cues to fully express myself. I don’t often tell the story I have in my head but I usually get the point across. This was one of those nights.
Morning Revelry
I woke up with the taste of bile in my throat. My dreams were full of me choking and hacking, vomiting repeatedly. I was back in my parents’ house for a big family gathering. Smiling and done up business casual I excused myself repeatedly for emetic purposes. No one really noticed or cared. Parties like that are just collections of uncomfortable people waiting it out. I could traipse through the living room dressed as Dr. Frank N. Furter and the most reaction would be nervous giggles with an occasional, “Oh my!” What’s worse, almost no one would get the reference. Continue reading Morning Revelry