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| radio, fiction, free mom and son sex, nihilism, zen, corpse, web dafesign, mom son sex, shwarma, agnosticism, gladys' comedy room, 1996 cricket world cup, dogging, mother son porn, angry, sexaul harassment, drunk driving, prayer, chick, | Discovering I was adopted a couple of weeks after Carmen's death put a big crimp in my grieving cha-cha. Every mournful memory was woven into jennifer a curse. I eventually succeeded in not thinking about it for long stretches of time, but that didn't make it any better when I did. Years passed, and I let this reproachful situation eat at me slowly. Then something clicked, I don't know what, maybe nothing more than the same urge that gets us out of an uncomfortable chair we've been sitting jennifer in too long. I chose her birthday, and jennifer after dinner I went to the basement to prepare her. She was in an embossed metal box, welded shut for an apparent eternity, and I had to use an old fashioned can opener to cut it open. |
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| That was her name, Carmen. I couldn't figure out what to do with her. I was torn between chucking her out of a moving car and fevered grandiose gestures of memorial storage. The only thing I knew for sure was she didn't want to be scattered into the ocean, because she told me so several times mom son sex over a course of 30 years. She left no specific instructions, mom son sex though, so I put her on a shelf beneath the shrine I used to meditate. Instead of mom son sex insight meditation, I did this: Breathe in: my mother sitting at her dressing table, telling me the stories of her family, chatting, turning, and wiping a smudge from my face with a Kleenex dampened by her spit. Breathe out: why did you lie to me? How could you lie to rne? Why did you lie to me? Repeat. I stopped meditating. I put Carmen in a drawer. I discussed my dilemma with Loren, but no one else. Carmen shamed me from the drawer, then from a shelf where I used her for a bookend, then back to the shrine, because though I didn't have a clue what I was doing, I did know that as an ex-person she deserved some sort of sacred space, however provisional that may have been. |
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