little sarah Big World

Wasalaza

Sometimes a thing is so funny to me that once it starts being funny it doesn’t stop being funny. For life.

Like when Robby described his AA meetings as “a bunch of people sitting around smoking like animals.”

Or that New Year’s in Spain where I took a hanger out of the hall closet and hung my coat up in the bathroom.

Or there was this one time, with a bowl of cereal…actually I have never successfully told the cereal story without laughing myself to tears. It is just that funny to me, and usually not at all funny to anyone else.

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September 16, 2012

A Work of Fiction

~OR~

Your Idea, Not Mine

Life was really, really good just then, and she told him so. A quick text sent while balancing her bike, laden basket-heavy with booze, snacks, a change of clothes. Toothpaste, toiletries. Waiting while Espy lugged her own steel horse down the steep steps, where they would pick up where they’d left off–positing halfheartedly about the necessity of courtship in our modern day, or gushing about graphic novels and artists and style. Her hands and feet puffed like cotton balls from summer’s sudden, lackadaisical reappearance, dry heat like a reminder, an afterthought. A sigh.

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