body/commodity
. . . .

"Fallen down," she says simply. She doesn't apologize.
"It doesn't matter," I say, and I start to pick up the broken glass shards. "I knew it would happen."
"Then why you don't stop it?" asks my mother.

And it's such a simple question.

(Amy Tan, TJLC)

I don't want to stare at this screen anymore my head hurts and I want to sleep but I can't until I move all this cloth from my bed and if I have to move from this chair I'm going to be sick.

@%#&$ is now livejournal.

Postscript: I am doubly employed. Paychecks to follow, hopefully before Christmas. I hope I can do this job without spitting on any customers. Or their food? I am not ready.

Eva K. Shuman

December 1, 2002. Predeceased by her husband, N. Max Shuman and daughter, Norma. Survived by her granddaughters, Annette Poczatek, Leslie (Kirk) Schmidt; great grandchildren, Rachel, Stephanie & Derek; brother, Phil Kaplan of Scottsdale, AZ; several nieces and nephews.
A memorial service will be held Wednesday, December 4th at 2 PM in the chapel of the Parsky Funeral Home, 1125 St. Paul St. Friends wishing may contribute to the Jewish Home Foundation, 2021 S. Winton Road, Rochester, NY 14618 or to a favorite charity in her memory.

My great-grandma Eva died on Sunday morning. I haven't said anything of importance for days. In my head I am sitting on the floor with my shoes off and the mirrors covered; not that it makes any difference, I've been lighting candles by myself anyway and I've never known what prayers to say. This is the stunning deafness of a thoughtless daughter of a thoughtless daughter of a daughter long a memory.

This following a long lazy post-tofu-pot-pie Thanksgiving, full of solitude and time alone and time not-alone but happy. Lonely, but not most of the time. The prospect of the next few weeks exhausts me in advance. Drained and headachy, verge of whiny... hopefully the gettingridofanyfreetimeremaining interview this afternoon will get me on the track to productive writing, evenings home with books and MWord, generally Getting Work Done.

Breakfast this morning: chased down Tuesday's birth control pill with Diet Coke. Who am I? Jesus.