Thursday December 15, 2016
Overheard in my mother’s kitchen
-If Rachel is going to be in one of her moods–I’m gonna be honest–I don’t think I’ll be able to be around her.
-Quin. Come on. It’s not going to be like that.
-I’m not kidding, babe,like I’m not going to do well in a setting like that.
-So what are you saying then.
-I’m just saying.
-Okay. But that she’s what?
-I’m just saying that I know she will 100% be in one of her moods and it will 100% destroy my time there and maybe everyone’s. So I don’t want to go if Rachel is there. Not this year.
-I can’t believe you would ditch me and my entire family’s Christmas because my sister is going through her things.
-I need this year to be good. This new year of good decisions and good behaviour and good food and good drugs. I can’t truly embrace my year if I’m anywhere near the things your sister is going through.
Tuesday March 18, 2014
from an essay by Deborah Stein about collaboration on howlround.com
Round the table we sit, Liddy pissed off because she still has to sit at the kiddy table made worse by the fact that her name rhymes with it. Adrianna can’t move her face because of the recent Botox and so Ed keeps making jokes just to see her not laugh. Darla is still in the shitter after eating a wad of mashed potatoes because Tyson dared her to defy her lactose intolerance. Mom is singing her happy song because she’s trying not to go insane and Dad is trying to get the kids to stop trying to undred Liddy’s hair. The food is mediocre and I’m trying to give Liddy looks of encouragement but she hates me most of all right now. Maybe because I left. Maybe because I came back. I never know with her. I sneak pour her a glass of wine and try to pass it over without anyone noticing.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
A Poison Tree
But I meant it. I was furious. I had a reason for yelling, for stealing all your money, your things. Those stupid possessions. That’ll teach you to choose them over me. To prioritize materials. I am a HUMAN BEING. And so, yeah, I took your cell phone and I drowned it in the bathtub. Took it in there with me when I was reading Rumi. He has some good ideas. I have some of my own. You wouldn’t have noticed. Not like you look at it every 2 seconds. Oh wait. You do.
I’m not sorry. I do not feel bad about cutting holes in all of your pants’ pockets. Or poking them in all you polo shirts. What did I do so wrong? Want your attention? Right. I guess I should feel some remorse, then. Pity. I’m surprisingly fine, however, so I guess there goes that. Guess I woke up with a lot less baggage and a lot fewer second place ribbons. You could have avoided it all. I will never forget the look on your face when you saw that rock through your precious new lap top screen. Priceless. Like your RELATIONSHIP was supposed to be. like I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE.
For a millisecond I thought about stopping.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Screenwriter’s Workbook
What a crock of shit, she said, as she slammed her fist down on the glass coffee table. She was always one for outbursts and dramatisations of reality. He can’t treat you like that, Liddy, he should know better.
It’s fine, Mare, I said to her, Don’t get all crazy. It was an accident, I’m sure. He forgot your name on the payroll? That’s an accident? Liddy, she started, Don’t push me. She had fire in her eyes, her hair. She was just on a mission and I knew better than to get in her way. Yes, I said, despite her warning. It was an accident because it’s never happened before and it will never happen again. He feels bad, I said, He feels really really shitty about it. Mare laughed like it was the funniest thing her younger sister ever said to her. He knows better, Liddy. So do you for that matter. Did he make a move on you? Is that it? Mare, I said, Easy…
He knows you’re married, what the ring doesn’t mean anything? That bastard. How dare he! Mare, I told her, you’re jumping to conclusions. That’s not it.
You refused his advances and now he’s embarrassed, bruised ego, mushed penis, so he’s punishing you, Liddy. He’s trying to teach you a lesson. You’re out of your mind, I told her, and started to clean up the crumbs to the cookie she broke.
Monday, November 26, 2012 at Sambuca Grill
Public Outreach Guidelines for MSF
Andie: If I die before I wake up, what would you do?
Ben: Are you being serious?
Andie: Yeah, I’m curious. Would you cry?
Ben: Why wouldn’t I cry, I can’t cry?
Andie: No, it’s good. I’d want that.
Ben: I know you would
Andie: What do you mean, “I would?”
Ben: You love the drama of everything. If someone’s not crying you think they’re not sad or happy or embarrassed or whatever you are when you cry.
Andie: Do I cry that much? Don’t answer that.
Andie: Sorry okay, I’m hot blooded and passionate. It’s the way I was programmed.
Ben: Would you cry if I died?
Andie: In your sleep?
Ben: Does it matter? Yes. Any place or time that I die, would you cry.
Andie: I don’t know.
Andie: I don’t know. I might turn into one of those hysterical laughing people. Or the ones who just go mute when they’re in so much shock. I might never talk again.
Ben: You would cry. You of all people would…have to!
Andie: But I’d be so broken I wouldn’t be me. I’d be the person who can’t cry.
Ben: I don’t like this. I think you should just cry.
Andie: Don’t you see? It’s better if I don’t. And then I never fully deal with you. And I carry my sadness over you forver. Until I die. Of a broken heart. Because of you.
Ben: …Alright, fine.