I think it was the first time it hit me that I was disposable, that we all were, that we players were on an assembly line of talent, and when we reached the end, it didn’t matter much whether we fell in the trash or not.
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
From the Archives: About My Father’s
So I’ve venerated the labor of my father’s hands, decided that that’s the real.
Whatever Pose You Do, It’s Going to Hurt
I was wailing then, screaming at her to get off me. And she said it again, “Pain’s not the end. You have to fight.”
Every six months or so
There are more emails from a series of strangers. They have questions. They’re confused by my branch on their family tree.
To Have (Stuff) and to Hold
Who were we as an adult couple, not just two college kids sleeping on each other’s hand-me-down mattresses?
