Tuesday March 1, 2016
Hardly slept-hadn’t been since March if I’m being honest. I don’t know if it was the construction or the lawn mowers- working nights make you stop sleeping and forget who you are, what your name is. But-I don’t know if I’m making excuses or whatever-all I know is I was fried. Wasn’t thinking. Maya couldn’t come and get me and that was fine-she said she was tied up at the shelter and some lone wolf told her he wasn’t going to leave unless she shaved his nut sack. I know I shouldn’t have left on my own-should have just waited there at the rest zone until someone could come get me, or some bus route opened up. I don’t like waiting around. Makes me feel like I’m killing time before I die. No in between. I didn’t mean to be so stupid. I didn’t need to drive I just had to get out of there-the smell of the plastic was starting to seep into me, twisting my guts up. Head pounding, all of that- I was just tired.
Sunday November 22, 2015 at Our Town
from a text
I love kittens!! Mom said if I finished reading my new book that she got me (it’s called: KITTENS) and ask Auntie Genie about the responsibilities around raising an animal friend as a pet, she MIGHT, maybe, will POSSIBLY consider letting me go to the shelter (where they keep the kittens from dying before they’re old enough to take care of themselves) and learn about some of my favourite ones. When I told her that I promised I would and would make sure I was very well informed about kittens and EVERYTHING they need before I asked her to get one, she said, Now, Izzie, this is not a YES or a NO it is a MAYBE, and it is ON CONDITION. I Know I know I know already. She is “non-committal”. Just like my father was. Or at least that’s what Auntie Genie tells me. She told me that FACT when I asked her once if he left because he was allergic to me. She said, Of course not, but that would have been a better reason.
Monday, July 20, 2015
I HAVE A DOG! Daddy saved a little black one from the shelter and brought him home for me TO KEEP! Mom said play nice with Joseph. Daddy thinks it’s better to call him Joseph than mom’s name, Peanut. He laughed when I picked it and looked at me with big Daddy eyes. Peanut is not the winner! I tell mom this and she storms back into the kitchen with the dish towel over her shoulder and tears in her big mommy eyes. Don’t worry about it, she likes to make things about her, Daddy tells me. She’s just mad you didn’t like her name, but guess what, Joseph didn’t like it either. Daddy goes into the kitchen after mommy. How could you, I hear her yell to him. Dammit, Karen, I hear him say back.
Wednesday September 17, 2014
Availiardi Dizionario Italiano-Inglese
After my nap I wake t the three cats in heat moaning to be let inside. I begged Mira not to feed them the very first time they showed up at our door and she refused to listen, claiming I was an insensitive product of my own eternal cynicism. I told her I had heard that cynicism would change the quality of our lives and she shook her head while pouring milk from the height of her hip into two tiny yogurt containers on the landing. Now these cats, thought I could have predicted it, are outs and we have to love them or it might, heaven forbid, breed more insensitive cynicism. I don’t love these cats. I don’t love most cats. I tried to give them a piece of my heart but in their eyes I see a great manipulation and a hunger that can’t be trusted. I think they see that in me too, even though I reluctantly feed them now and sometimes throw bits of yarn their way when I feel like attempting my good deed for the day. Mira never seems to be here anymore–always working late nights at the factory. I’m left here with these little gypsy cats more than I’d like.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
the back of the Almost Famous DVD case
Lil was wearing two old cans like a coconut bra. She’d punched holes in the sides with a nail and tied string through. She was, technically, wearing a string bikini. On the bottom, she wore checkered pyjama pants. “Nice look, Lil…” I said.
“Goin’ down to the truck stop for some Coke and a ciggy,” said Lil, the first time I met her. I’d started volunteering at the shelter one night a week, to relieve my friend Beth who was a social worker there and hadn’t had a day off in three months. Beth had warned me about Lil. “She’s a talker,” Beth had said, sipping chicken noodles soup from a big mug, leaning back in her desk chair. “Opportunity of a lifetime,” whispered Lil, leaning in real close. “Never know what you’re gonna find down there.”
She refused to take her meds, even though they threatened to send her down to CAMH night after night. We’d hear her shrieking out, calling for “Bunny” whoever that might be.