Just because I take myself too seriously does not mean that you have to. For example, I read this to all the teachers at my school once and then made them do writerly things to it in a workshop.
Reasons We Make No Sense Together
(why I took my toothbrush out of your holder)
1. I’m an English major, Brit Lit. You’re dyslexic. My favorite book is Brideshead Revisited, yours is Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
2. I can’t stand Bob Marley, particularly at 3:14 in the morning when your stoner friends come over to light up in our living room.
3. Thanks to your untidy bathroom habits, I now know more about the menstruation cycle than they ever covered in eighth grade Human Growth and Development.
4. When we kiss I can tell exactly what you’re thinking by how you get distracted and start chewing on my earlobe or how your mouth goes soft and loose and happy.
5. You are really distractible.
6. One time you wanted me to join your indie-folk band that you started with your sister but the only song I could think of was, ‘'I’m Not That Into Folk Music But I Thought You Were Cute So I Bought The CDs You Recommended And Now I Like It But I Like You More’. As a working title.
7. When I try and write you poetry for your birthday or Valentines Day or any day, I just wind up with a page of cross-outs and phrases like ‘the sun and the solution and the soles of your feet’ and ‘i lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove you’ and neither of those scan well at all.
8. Your morning breath is atrocious.
9. You think you can sing well.
10. You enjoy trimming your toenails on the couch that you stole from your college dorm and humming happily through your nose.
11. Sometimes, you take too long in the shower when I’m late for work so I have to go in regardless and then I’m even later.
12. Your exes have a lot of metal in their faces and names like Phosphorus and Louisiana and they know how to fix bicycles and bake vegan carrot cakes.
13. You dance like some beautiful mad thing, or Iggy Pop back when he did a lot of coke (the last time I danced in public was at my Bar Mitzvah).
14. It never gets easier. You are always a trial. I am always running your labyrinth with the gold thread in hand, answering the million dollar question I didn’t study for, holding back your hair when you puke.
15. The other day I took Excedrin and as I was tweaking from the side effects I thought of you.
16. You have absolutely no concept of personal space. You sit in the laps of all my friends and talk to them about declining bee populations and installation art.
17. If you ever left me, I would have to build you again out of garbage and feathers so no one would ever touch you
18. If you ever left me, I know exactly which of your friends I would try and sleep with first
(Morgan, then Audrey).
19. Sometimes when I’m riding the city bus too late at night I call your answering machine just to listen to your voice giggling over nothing, The Misfits buzzing in the background
20. You once told me that you didn’t ever want to have a girl, because it was too hard to be a woman, even today.
21. Again, your sense of personal space is extremely underdeveloped. This can not be repeated enough.
22. If I flew away, you would not come looking for me. I know this for certain, but you would leave the windows unlocked for a year and a day.
23. Not often, but sometimes, you have unspeakably dark days spent lying face down on the carpet. On those days, your silence is a pond where drowned things live.
24. I’m allergic to peanuts, and I’m pretty sure you don’t understand that you can’t have both your mid-morning PB&J and a live me.
25. You’re afraid of spiders, but not intravenous drugs.
26. I’d like to believe you when you tell me that you’ve quit.
27. When you met my mom and dad you didn’t get around to washing your hair so you bought a grey fedora that you cocked over one eye. My eighty-one year old dad flirted with you all night and my mom got the recipe to the applesauce cake that you brought.
28. I don’t trust you with anything. You killed the ficus I left with you for the week I went to Boston. How could I ever entrust my very much alive and beating heart? You’d drop it or something; grin at me and tell me it was slippery.
29. You should rightfully be dead and are, instead, beautiful.
30. Selfish as it is, I don’t want to be around for the inevitable flameout. I’d rather remember the smell of your hair and the way you faked like you were too drunk to drive home.
31. If you were the ocean, I‘d learn to float.
That's all.
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It will be interesting to see where this blog will lead.
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