House Theater,
Please let me be in your really cool plays after I graduate college. PLEASE!
29.11.07
Dear Theater Gods
27.11.07
21.11.07
12.11.07
http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?_dyncharset=ISO-8859-1&_dynSessConf=-1234669611404633870&id=741596&parentid=ACC_COLD_WEATHER_HATS&pushId=ACC_COLD_WEATHER_HATS&popId=ACC_COLD_WEATHER&sortProperties=&navCount=14&navAction=poppushpush&fromCategoryPage=true&selectedProductSize=&selectedProductSize1=&color=cam
URL for the bag: http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?_dyncharset=ISO-8859-1&_dynSessConf=1527973013195025261&id=74440&parentid=SB_BAGS_SHOULDER&pushId=SB_BAGS_SHOULDER&popId=SB_BAGS_WALLETS&sortProperties=&navCount=10&navAction=poppushpush&fromCategoryPage=true&selectedProductSize=&selectedProductSize1=&color=win
11.11.07
RE: Christmas
Dear Esteemed Family Members,
I have recently been informed that there will be a Christmas gift lottery this year. This is a decision I am fine with. But let me ask you this, generous aunts and uncles, why should my two younger colleagues, Remy and Lillian, not be included? Why should their mere months shy of 18 allow them to receive presents from all of the family members and buy for whomever they please when the rest of us will get and give only ONE!? I suggest that these two, whose maturity levels surpass that of an 18 year old anyday, anyway, be ushered into adult hood just as the rest of have. I am sure that these two will graciously step into the inner circle of adulthood and have a grand old time being included in the very exclusive gift lottery.
Thank You.
Zoe Schwartz
9.11.07
Any names similar to the names of real people are not actually supposed to be those people but a fictional representation of them
Always Billy
July 10th, 2007
Dear Billy,
I cannot go another day without telling you how I feel. I have sat silently for years and years sitting behind you year after year (what an evil hand fate has in having made our last names so similar! ) I watched as you grew from a boy to man, I saw your style change from the clothes your mother had bought you to that one day in 7th grade when you came in wearing that shirt with the surf board on it that I knew Mrs. Condon could have never picked out. I watched as you read car magazines on the inside of your text books during class and passed notes with John Homes. I saw when girls started noticing you (even though I had noticed you forever) and watched as you had a new girl at your side every week. I yearned to be those girls with their long silky hair and nice shoes. I used to imagine that one day you would turn around not only to ask me to borrow a pencil (half of the pencils I lent you I never saw again!) but tell me the beauty you saw in my eyes. Or how lovely you though my in class essay about the mating habits of Amazon tree frogs was. I wished so many times that you would see past my second hand clothes and glasses to the core of me where truth and beauty abound. But you never did. You were too busy trying out for football and soccer and baseball and choir and trying to get in the pants of Melissa Mason to notice me.
At graduation I walked behind you smelling your expensive Ralph Lauren cologne that I’m sure Melissa gave you for Christmas or Valentine’s day some year. There were many nights I lay awake imaging our first Christmas together. I would hand you a long narrow box that you would think was a sweater. Another Sweater! You would say and give me a joking look (because in my mind we had this inside joke about sweaters and how I had so many) You would tear off the chocolate brown wrapping paper and turquoise bow, pull off the lid to reveal two tickets! Two tickets for you and me to an acoustic Deep Blue Something show. (Because in my mind our song was that song “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” because that was the last song I heard in the car on the way to school the first day I saw you.) You would see the tickets, give me a sly smile and then leap at me from the foot of the Christmas tree. You would kiss me passionately for a long moment and then break off and start playfully nipping at my neck.
But, Billy, I’m tired of my imagination. I’m tired of only seeing you from afar and never up close and personal. I love you. I love everything about you. I always have. I figure its now or never. We’re both leaving for school at the end of the summer. I just want to know. Do you feel the same? Could you? Have you? Maybe we could get some coffee sometime? Just talk? I would enjoy that.
Forever Yours,
Shelly Conley
P.S. I’ve included a picture I drew during our last homeroom period of us at your beach house before we leave for college in August. Notice the attention to detail!
P.P.S In case you accidentally throw away the envelope with my return address on it here is my address:
Shelly Conley
1135 Troost
Redding, MA
Also, my phone number is 617-356-1867
Also, I hope to talk to you soon.
July 27th, 2007
Dear Billy,
Its been about two weeks since I sent my first letter. I am worried you haven’t gotten it. I am also worried you may have received it but have not had time to respond. In any case, I will not restate what I said in the first letter, if you have already read it. However, I will say that I recently saw you at The Maple Tree with John, Melissa, and Roberta. You guys were sitting at the big round table in the back drinking cokes and eating pancakes. What a funny combination. I mean, coke is not a breakfast drink! I was sitting the front with my little brother who I had to babysit all day. What a lame way to spend a lovely summer day, hanging out with a 12 year old boy!
Anyway we were having lunch (he had a cheese burger and fries and I had chicken soup with an unlimited bread basket) and I was watching you guys laughing and sipping your cokes, although I bet Melissa’s was probably a diet. I was imagining I was sitting beside you, tucked into that little nook under your arm-pit, smelling the mix of your sweat, deodorant, and Ralph Lauren mist. Although, you probably only wear it on special occasions. I would slide my arm behind you brushing your back and the booth and caress the small of your back with my forearm. As I was mid fantasy George, my brother, knocked over his sprite. (Hes not allowed to have caffeine!) There was a big raucous as it spilled onto his lap and the waitress brought over so many napkins and gave us an annoyed look. I’m pretty sure you looked up at that point and that we might have made eye contact across the bustling restaurant. Your piercing blue eyes glued to mine in the fury of a mid-afternoon lunch rush in late July. What could be more romantic?
You looked at me and then turned and buried your nose in Melissa’s neck. Was this to hide your love in front of her and them? Was this to make me want you more? Because if it was the latter, boy did you succeed!
Tomorrow I am starting a two week class at the community college. It is an astronomy class. Its mostly to kill time before leaving for school, but its also going to count for an earth science credit when I get to school! Which means one extra class I can take there. I am hoping it will be interesting. At least it will be better then not doing anything all day.
I have so many things I want to tell you, I hope you’ll still consider getting together with me. There is very little time left before I leave…
Forever and ever and ever,
Shelly
August 5, 2007
Billy,
I heard yesterday that you were in an accident. I was at the mall with my friend Samantha I met at my community college class (astronomy, remember?) and she apparently is the twin sister of this guy who is in your extended social circle, his name is Brian Anderson. We ran into him at Panda Express and he told her that you had been in accident. He said that last night you and some other people were driving home from a party at Mary Cleary’s house and that you decided to go speeding down some back roads. I can’t believe you would do something as reckless as turning off your headlights and speeding to impress some girls! Look what happened! I hope that you are okay, and I hope the deer you hit is okay, and I hope the windshield isn’t un-repairable. Brian made it sound like the whole accident was really bad. Like maybe you spent the night in the hospital or had to get stitches and maybe had a concussion. He didn’t know exactly what the prognosis was. I just really hope you’re okay. I hope you guys weren’t drunk and that the deer didn’t deform your face at all. I’m really worried about you. If you get this will you please contact me somehow and let me know you are okay? Or if you are incapacitated can you have someone else let me know? Just so I can rest easy?
By the way, I’m also a little annoyed you never responded to my previous two letters. I’m pretty sure you are getting them, but I can’t think of a decent excuse why you would never even just say a hello. But I suppose this is a poor time to tell you that, seeing as how you may be on the brink of death after the accident. My thoughts are with you. Always.
Always,
Shelly
August 10th, 2007
Billy,
I would have written this letter sooner, but I have been in my room crying since I found out. After sending my last letter and not receiving any sort of call or contact I was thinking the worst. It took a lot of courage on my part, but I called your house, very concerned, to see if you were doing all right. I decided I would make the call on speaker-phone and record, just in case I did speak to you. At that point I was thinking it would be nice to have a bit of your voice that I could listen to whenever I was lonely. But you weren’t home. This is the conversation I had with your mother, word for word, transcribed from my recording, so you can see exactly how things played out.
“Hello, Mrs. Condon, this is Shelly Conley, Sam and Katherine’s daughter.”
“Oh, Shelly, how is your dad’s back? We really missed him at church last week.”
“Hes recovered completely and is back at work, thanks. I am really wondering how Billy is. I heard about the accident.”
“The accident?”
“Um…yes, I heard through some friends that he was in a car accident and was badly injured.”
“Well, this is the first I’m hearing of an accident. Billy is out playing ultimate Frisbee with some kids, right now. Unless it happened in the last hour or two, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t sustained any serious injuries.”
“Are you sure? One hundred percent sure?”
“I think so, Shelly.”
“Oh, well. Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
“I’ll let him know you called.”
“Thanks, bye.”
After this phone conversation with your mother, I was baffled, confused. How could I have been given such false information? I called my mom and talked to her for a while about it and she told me that I will meet plenty of boys at college who will appreciate me. But what does that have to do with the fabrication of a possibly fatal accident! In my fit of confusion I called Samantha, Brian’s sister. We had a very interesting phone conversation. It was also recorded for posterity and it as follows:
“Hey Samantha, it’s Shelly, from class.”
“Oh hey! How are you? Are you as in love with comets as I am right now?”
“Yeah, I probably am. But that’s not the point of this phone call.”
“Oh, can you not come to our movie night tonight? I already bought some brownie mix…”
“No I can, but I just called Billy’s mom and asked her if he was okay after the accident and she said there never was an accident!”
“Oh yeah.”
“What do you mean oh yeah? Did you know about this?”
“Well, not at the time. Brian just told me the other night he was actually at the mall with Billy. Billy had seen you and I guess thought it would be funny if he ran and hid and Brian told you he had died or gotten hurt or something because you are totally obsessed with him or something. But I told Brian that that was a really awful thing to do to someone, especially to my friend, and that there’s no way you would even spend a second thinking about Billy Condon! He’s such an ass. You’re way smarter than he’ll ever be.”
“Why didn’t you call me and tell me right away?”
“I thought it was inconsequential. I didn’t think you would have any emotional investment in Billy Condon.”
“Well, I do. I’m in love with him and I always have been. I wish you would have told me. I can’t believe he would do this.”
“Man, sorry Shelly. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, just a practical joke. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”
“It’s not your fault. I think I might skip our movie though, I kind of just feel like being alone.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, but tell your brother I think he’s pond scum.”
“I will. See you in class tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
But I didn’t go to class, Billy. I didn’t go to class because I stayed up all night crying because you purposefully tricked me and embarrassed me. Why would you do that? We have barely had a real conversation in the whole time we’ve existed on the same planet. You meant everything to me and I mean nothing to you. Do you know what it feels like to know you mean nothing to someone whom you have loved unconditionally for years? It feels like someone stabbed you. That’s what it feels like. You broke my heart Billy. You were the only one who ever held it and now its in pieces on my bedroom floor and apparently I have been being humiliated behind my back for a very long time by YOU. You are not who I thought you were and you are not someone I should be associated with. You are an awful person, Billy. I hope you really do get hit by a deer and bleed all over the nice interior of your parents car.
9.25.2007
Billy,
I’m writing to you to tell you that I forgive you for what you did to me over the summer. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. I still think it was really mean, but how can I be mad at you for not loving me back? I guess I was mad you never even gave it a chance and just cast me off without even getting to know me. I would have bought you tickets to Deep Blue Something, Billy! But you never saw that. You only saw my place on the social ladder, or the pile of books on my desk. Surely there is more to a person then that. The fact that you don’t know that and possibly never will is the silver lining in the hurricane you have caused in my heart. I will get over you Billy, in fact I am getting over you. Just yesterday I met a really nice boy at the library. I dropped my pencil and it rolled under his feet. He picked it up and handed it to me. He smiled and said, “I like your shirt.” I smiled back and said, “It used to be my Grandma’s.” I am hoping he might be there this evening. I am hoping a lot of things, Billy. This is my future and every door is open. That is, every door except yours. But I don’t need your door anymore. It was always blocked by something. I can’t believe I spent so long loving you and never receiving anything in return. Not even a hello. I really am baffled at how I never noticed what a jerk you were. I guess that was my childhood idealism or something. But I’m a woman in college now, I am worldly and educated, or at least on my there.
There is a part of me that is a little melancholy that this will be my last letter to you. Almost like I am killing a part of myself, a part of my adolescence. But it has to be done. You are no longer important to me, and I need you to know that. I hope one day we can laugh about all this, but until then, good-bye.
-Shelly
P.S. Melissa Mason cheated on you Junior year of high school with Brian Anderson. Samantha, his sister, told me that there was a period of a few weeks when she was coming over every night and they would make out in the TV room. Just thought you should know before you propose, or get her pregnant.
8.11.07
4.11.07
28.10.07
25.10.07
short story
MARCH
Jo stood up from her chair in the front pew and straightened her skirt. The short walk to the podium seemed to take an eternity. She placed her white hands on either side and leaned in towards the microphone. “Thank you Rabbi Rothstein. That was a beautiful introduction. How can I even begin to say how much Laurie meant to me? Being a quadruplet is never easy. Being a quadruplet named after famous characters from a famous novel is never easy. Laurie got off a little easier then the rest of us, though, not actually being named DIRECTLY after a March sister. Mom and Dad didn’t want to name one of us Beth, because she is the one who dies in the end of Little Women, sorry to ruin the ending for you. So they named Laurie Laurie, but I guess somehow she was still jinxed, because she died anyway, didn’t she?” Jo quickly looked down and let the tears fall from her eyes onto the printed out copy of her speech in front of her. She tightened her grip on the sides of the podium turning her knuckles a translucent white. “Laurie was always the one to instigate the trouble. It wasn’t necessarily trouble, but adventures. There was this one night when we were all twelve, I think. Daddy had hit our pet ferret, Monk, with his car earlier in the week. Laurie wanted to go have a séance and try to bring back their souls. Amy and I were all for the idea, but Meg got angry at Laurie for even bringing up the idea. They started fighting about if the spirits would be evil or not and Amy started to cry like she always did when there was a fight in the house. Laurie looked at Amy, then at Meg and said ‘Look! Now you made her cry!’ And we all started cracking up. That was kind of the thing we would always say to get Amy to calm down. We just laughed and laughed and rolled on the floor for hours laughing through tears of laughter. She always knew the right thing to say to bring a smile to people’s faces.” Jo paused and looked into the faces of her sisters in the front row. Meg was wearing a pants suit and her hair had recently been cut short and highlighted so that she stood out among the sisters. She was looking through Jo and taking a slow, hidden sip from a monogrammed flask. Amy sat on her left, long dark hair brushing her shoulders. She fiddled with a string on her skirt and kept her eyes towards the ground. It was difficult to look at either of her sisters without seeing Laurie. “About a year and a half ago, right around our 38th birthday, before Laurie started her struggle with scarlet fever, we were just getting the ice fashion line off the ground. I had been having a very rough week dealing with the accountants and publicists and the ends of my divorce. One night Laurie met me at my house after work with a marshmallow pie. Its really just marshmallows and chocolate sauce in a gram cracker crust. We sat on the floor of my living room and devoured it, just like we were 13 again. And then pretty soon the disease devoured her. Laurie will forever live on in me, in Meg, in Amy, in all her friends and in all her creative endeavors from over the years. I love you.” Jo wiped the silent tears from her cheeks and headed back to her seat in the front row. She sat down next to Meg and put her hand on Meg’s knee. Meg quickly shifted her weight so that Jo’s hand fell in between the chairs. “Its your turn,” Jo whispered.
Meg slowly stood up and wobbled slightly. She did not make any attempt to conceal the small metal flask in her right hand. She sauntered to the podium and slammed the flask down making the microphone bounce a little. She leaned in slowly and put her mouth less than an inch away from the microphone. “Laurie. Laurie, Laurie, Laurie. It was always all about her wasn’t it? It was about her when she pretended to be me and dated my boyfriend in 8th grade. It was about her when she got to name the kitten that I found in the back alley. Who names a cat Pim? I would of named it Charlie. It was about her when she dropped the Christmas ham that one year and blamed it on me! And its pretty hard to defend yourself against something like that when your mother dresses you in fucking matching pinafores and you look EXACTLY ALIKE.” Meg paused for a moment and glanced around at the packed pews. Friends and family members covered their eyes and shook their heads silently in disgrace. Jo stared at her with a look of desperation in her eyes that said “Stop while your ahead.” A few rows behind her sisters, Uncle Ron with an ugly grimace on his face glared at her. She licked her lips and continues. “It was about her when she invented ‘ice theater’. Anyone could have installed ice rinks in smaller, more intimate venues and performed ground breaking theatrical works WHILE ice skating! And its about her today. You know what, I may not have accomplished as much as Laurie in my life, but at least I’m strong. At least I didn’t succumb to some hundred-year-old disease that ironically took away our little Beth! She got scarlet fever! Who the fuck gets scarlet fever after 1912?” Meg took a quick swig from her flask and noticed a small woman storming out of the main sanctuary with a small child in her arms. Dread covered almost every face in the room, however no one made any motion to stop her from continuing. “I was married first. And I was able to have a baby. To actually conceive a child, unlike the little goddess of life. Well you know what everyone, she’s gone. And you have to deal with that. And you know what? Consider me gone too. Don’t think that all of you who overlooked me for my stupid sister over the years are going to use me as replacement now that she’s dead. I was done with this family years ago. Thank you for your time. Amy, I think you’re next.” Meg let her empty flask fall to the ground and stumbled back to her seat. Before she could sit, she was intercepted by a tall, bulky man in a dark gray suit. His nose was thick and long, with a few stray hairs sticking out of the nostrils. He grabbed Meg’s arm and dragged her down the aisle past rows of horrified guests. He slammed through the doors into a lobby with stained glass windows and many pillars. He let go of her arm and threw her in the direction of the entrance of the synagogue. “How could you say such things at your sister’s funeral?” he screamed in a raspy, gray, voice.
“Whatever, Uncle Ron. It’s the truth, I’m not ashamed of how I really feel.”
“You are a disgrace to this family! If Jean and Ira were still alive they would take you out of their will. They would disown you.”
“Mom and Dad barely knew I existed. They wouldn’t have even listened to my speech. And they barely left me anything in their will as it is.” Jo slammed through the doors and shot an angry look at Meg. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Uncle Ron. “I can not believe you behaved like this! Your parents loved each of you equally, and would be ashamed of your behavior. Whether or not you are actually done with this family, this family is done with you. This was the last draw.”
“Ron,” Jo shouted. “You cant just exile our sister.”
“We should have cut ties with you last New Years when you and your gentile husband almost killed Amy with that torch!” Meg was facing away from her old uncle, into the purple light streaming in through the windows. He stared at her fiercely and she continued to avoid his gaze. Jo stood in between them trying to think of some way to mend the situation. Meg played with the last button on her jacket and stared silently at the floor. “What, cat got your tongue, Meggy? No biting remarks to throw back at me?” Meg continued her silent vigil. “You can sit Shiva and try to mourn your sister’s death properly, but after that I do not want to see you at family events. Maybe your sisters will still want you around, but to me you are lost forever.” He turned, his gray suit jacket flying up a bit in the back as he did and stormed back into the main sanctuary. As the doors closed slowly, Amy’s speech seeped out into the lobby. “L-l-l-l-l-l-aurie was my f-f-f-f-f-avorite sister. N-n-n-no offense. S-s-s-s-she always l-l-l-l-l-l-ooked after m-m-m-me…” Jo crossed the lobby to Meg and stood very close to her without making any physical contact. “That was really out of line, Meg. But I understand that you’re grieving and we all express of sadness in different ways. I think that was rude and you should know better, but don’t listen to Uncle Ron. You are as much a part of this family as anyone else, maybe even a larger part then Ron is.”
“Leave me alone right now, Jo.” Jo did not change her facial expression at all, but turned and walked slowly back into the temple.
Meg stood in a strange peaceful silence. She was just given permission to cut all ties with her family. This is what she had wanted her entire life, to no longer be a Goldberg. To never again be lumped in with her sisters, to never have to sit through another God damn nine hour Seder dinner at Grandma’s house, to not have to pretend she was sorry she married a non-jewish man, to not have to split her birthday three ways, to not have to humor her uncle Jerry’s awful jokes, and to not have to watch one more fucking romantic comedy on sister movie night (which she hadn’t even attended in months). This was her chance to start fresh and never look back. She stormed out of the temple into the frigid air. The early March cold immediately stung her lungs and she remembered her coat was down in the basement buried under thousands of mourner’s winter wear. “Fuck,” she yelled, stopping on the stairs. She turned around and walked back into the lobby, took a sharp left and headed down some concrete stairs. The rec-room was large with a small stage at the far end. The fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling were all out except for one over the coat rack. Luckily the coats were, indeed, hanging up so she wouldn’t have to dig though a pile of black and gray wool. She started at the front and pulled each coat aside searching for her own long, heavy, black coat. There were many doppelgangers, so she had to inspect each tag. She was halfway through the rack of coats when she heard a muffled cry across the rec-room from her. It sounded like a child, a bit like her own daughter, Harper, who was back at home in San Francisco with her husband. James was not well liked by the Goldberg family, and had decided to not make the cross country trip to upstate New York.
She walked slowly across the half-lit concrete floor towards the sobs. She reached a pair of folding, wood paneled doors. The crier was definitely behind the door. Meg knocked softly. The sobs stopped immediately. “Are you alright?” Meg whispered into a crack in the doors. There was no answer, only heavy breaths. “Can I open the door to see if you’re okay?” She continued to whisper. There was still no answer. “Please?” she asked sweetly. Who ever was inside was not answering. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know I’m here, please can I come in? Please?” Her voice cracked and tears began to pour down her face. “Please, please, please, let me in” she sobbed leaning her weight against the door. She allowed herself to slide down the door into a small ball on the cold concrete floor. “Please,” she repeated over and over again through her tears. She lay curled up on the floor for minutes crying into her knees. The wood paneled doors slowly opened behind her, and a little girl stood in the dim rec-room light. She was wearing a velvet black dress that came to her shins, black tights, and small and shiny mary janes. There was a white barrette holding her whispy blonde bangs out of her face. “Are you okay?” She asked in a light voice from the doorway. Meg looked at the girl from the floor and immediately sat up straight. “Are you alright?” She responded, surveying the girl for any physical injuries. The little girl took a timid step forward.
“My mom took me out of the room when you started talking. Then I went to the bathroom while she was listening to the door, but I couldn’t find it, and I also can’t find my way to the big room. I’m lost.”
“Did you go to the bathroom yet?” The girl shook her head. Meg stood up, wiped off her pants, wiped off her cheeks, and took the little girl’s hand. She lead her across the room, up the narrow stairs, through the lobby, and into a one stall bathroom. The little girl walked straight into the stall and immediately did what she had to do. “Why were you so mad? My mom said you were mad and that she didn’t want me to hear those mean words today.” Meg shifted her weight and examined her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with watery mascara. She grabbed a paper towel and began to dab at her eyes.
“I wasn’t very good friends with my sister, Laurie. I wanted everyone to know.”
“But isn’t she dead?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re mad she died?”
“Are you almost done?”
“Yes.” Her little feet hit the floor with slap and within moments her tights were pulled up again. She emerged and went right to the sink. She was barley tall enough, but with a little help from her tip toes she was able to turn on the water. “So why are you mad?” She repeated staring at her hands.
“Who is your mom?”
“Um…her name is Maria. Laurie was her director a lot. I got to ice skate with them. Laurie bought me a really nice ice outfit for my birthday last year. It was purple.”
“Maria. So you must be Alexia?”
“Yes.”
“She used to pretend you were her daughter.”
“I am her daughter. Maria is my mom.”
“Of course she is. Are you finished?”
“Yes.” She turned off the water and dried her hands on the skirt of her dress. Meg took her hand and lead her to the doors into the main sanctuary. A woman emerged from the stair way that lead to the basement. “There you are!” She ran the last few steps to Alexia and picked her up in a quick hug. She closed her eyes and hugged the little girl for a long moment. Only when she opened her eyes did she notice Meg’s presence. “You’re awful. AWFUL. So many people loved Laurie and what right do you have to come in here and ruin our last chance to say goodbye with your teenager ego bullshit!”
“Mommy, swear jar!” Maria ignored her child’s comment, gave Meg a vicious look and walked back into the main room.
“Everyone loved her so much.” Meg said under her breath and headed back into the basement to finally retrieve her coat.
Two days later Meg sat on a plush, red couch thumbing through old photo albums. This particular album was of a summer vacation to their aunt’s house on Martha’s Vineyard. The girls were almost 12. This was the one-year when Meg stood out from everyone. She had started to develop a little bit earlier and was the first Goldberg sister to get boobs. The other three were insanely jealous and wondered if she was somehow faking it. There was one particular photo where the four girls stood on the beach with waves crashing behind them. Amy, Joe, and Laurie stood in their one pieces slightly hunched and smiling uncomfortably in the sun, but Meg stood proudly with her chest as far out as it would go in a red bikini top. She remembered right after this picture was taken a boy had stopped to talk to her. The moment was terribly exciting as it happened, she was making her sisters even more jealous and angry which she loved doing. Looking back on it now, she realized the boy was probably some scummy 16 year old who liked to hit on 12-year-old girls.
The phone rang for the millionth time that day. She let it go to the answering machine. “Meg, its Jo- AGAIN. I don’t want to yell at you, okay, I just want to talk. No one saw you leave the funeral and no one has heard from you since, we just want to make sure you’re okay. PLEASE call me back.” Meg ignored the voice from across the room, just as she had ignored the previous three thousand messages from various family members. Some of the calls were to harass her for her funeral behavior, others were to console, others to see why the hell she didn’t sit Shiva for her dead sister. She had heard Uncle Ron loud and clear at the funeral, she was to have nothing more to do with the Goldbergs, and from the moment she walked out the doors was no longer a part of that family.
21.10.07
15.10.07
A new member of our family
It almost looks like a kanger-roo, when you glance at it quickly. But its actually a Narwall.
13.10.07
C-A-T Spells MURDER
I was in an art show reading R.L. Stein and wearing a rabbit mask.
Natalie had a hallway of work up also.
24.9.07
A day trip!
"Hey!Lets pretend we're actually exploring some new European city where we don't speak the language!" 
The City Museum in St. Louis is crazzyyyyy. The playground is like 3 or 4 stories up and TERRIFYING!
17.9.07
Time Caps.
"She Wanted to create her future, not enter a state already shaped to her outline.
Something is happening. It has happened. It will happen. This is what she believed. There is a story, a flow of consciousness and possibility. The future comes into being." - The Body Artist
31.8.07
BREAKING NEWS
The Schwartz kids will soon be dropping out of school and packing up our act. After the act is polished and ready for the public (a few weeks of rehearsing in the basement) we will be heading for the Orphium Circuit on Vaudville (it aint dead!). Our protective stage mother will make sure we get booked in the best theaters. I made this decision after realizing I will never have a marketable skill except my personality, and I think the same is true for Remy. (No Offense) But here we go, off into the night with not so much as a word.
9.8.07
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
