Today

A trip into my psyche: While walking to the car I became upset because I couldn't remember what I'd been depressed about. I found myself searching about in my mind, thinking, wasn't there something that had really had me kind of down. And now I'm just upset because I can't even remember it. Note to self: It's probably a good idea to just let that one go.

We spent the weekend at the beach, playing in the surf, grilling out in the grass overlooking the bay....Okay, so mostly I read Blood Meridian, which is kind of like swimming in the ocean, except that instead of swimming in the ocean you're reading about people being brutally killed and scalped for money. I think that pointing out that the two are different is really just splitting hairs. I know how to have a good time.

I went shopping this weekend. Typically a shopping experience involving me lasts about thirty minutes. However, I was allowed to shop alone. When I shop alone I am like a wild banshee. I'm not sure what a wile banshee is like, but I'm still almost certain that I resemble it. I walk into a store and I know within thirty seconds whether they've got what I want. Try it on? Maybe. I know my size. Not a problem.

Hours later:
S: Are those too short?

M: No.

S: Are you sure?

M: Yes I'm sure. Stop trying to undermine me.

(Hours later)
M: Why did I buy these? They are too short. Wipe that smug look off your face.

Anyhow, I could pretty much star on Sex and the City once I'm let loose. I know how to express myself economically. Note: I don't mean expressing myself in a particularly terse or concise manner. I feel like that's a much pithier way of describing what is essentially retrograde consumerism. On the plus side a local library was having one of those all you can eat book sales, and I managed to buy about thirty new titles for our already burgeoning shelves. When books cost ten cents a pop it's hard to have that same level of discernment that I have when standing in line at Barnes and peering at a book that costs 17.95, thinking, this book better be pretty damn good.

Honestly though, I'm far less likely to read these books that I purchased for roughly ten cents because I didn't get to express myself economically in a way that gives them value. It's a pretty base way to view the world but sort of necessary to our current system. But it's especially off in this scenario because the vale in a work of writing is certainly intrinsic, or contained within the writing itself, and has nothing to do with the amount of money that you paid for it. And yet, when I look at these books that I picked up at the library so cheaply, I'll do so with disdain, they can't be good; they were so damn cheap.

Fiction (Cont) Note: The sections alternate narrators according to the paragraph breaks.

He weren’t much of a dog to begin with. Got that tail tucked tween his legs and no balls to speak of. Dog’s got to have hisself a pair of big ones: ones to make other dogs turn up butts in shame. He didn’t ever make no dogs turn in shame, fact is, I think they was laughing at him.

I came to live with you from the general store parking lot—wagons that turn on rickety wheels, dust becoming mud, ruts in the street, a young man, blue vested, watching the women shaded by bonnets, an old man, smoke sliding through fingers, a drunk, vomiting in the trees, a swift kick to the slats of my ribs. I licked your cold hand with my warm tongue. Lucy held me by the tail.

He always barkt at the God dang night. Hated it; thought the damn thing was gonna devour him alive. Like his momma had barkt him some ghost stories at her tit, told him it could swallow your soul. And no amount of fireflies burnin out their faint lights over water could get him to stop whimperin. I let him start sleepin with the girls; he practically pissed hisself in delight.

The house always smelled of coffee. Little Lucy, golden hair like summer rain, grasping fingers tangled in fur, and Jenny, with her stern older sister voice, rough hands on my nose, a warm body curled in sleep. Beyond the window: chipmunks on bare limbs,

tiny paws, little squeaks, small teeth hammering acorns, ungraspable. How I would have liked to have ground my teeth into their small bones.