Stories tagged memoir

Breathing

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After only a few months’ practice I am able to dive deep within myself. Inhale. A millisecond stop and I am under the surface. I know there is something here within myself – some treasure that I have come to find.

No Sanctuary 3. Bathroom

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These were definitely the two worst ways to die.

The Diary of Anne Frank's Daughter 4. Psychotherapy, God and Me

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The therapist started to seem increasingly far away, his head a tiny potato head, across the ignorant universe of his dustless desk that seemed to get bigger and bigger as the session progressed, like something out of Alice in Wonderland.

Throwing Pencils

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I can never tell if he’s drunk or using some sort of substance or if perhaps his brain just doesn’t fire at the pace that we have come to accept as normal.

Fly the Friendly Skies

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Lucky bastard, he gets Glamour Puss and I get lady wrestler who's giving off the vibe she'll bludgeon me to death with her Bible if I make one false move.

Once I get through this

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Once I get through this I'm going to start: daily yoga stretches; walking the dog all the way to the waterfall every morning; tossing out, unread, Saturday's ads so I don't think about going into Walmart to buy Stack-A-Shelves (assembly required). Hey, even…

First Man ~ 1947

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By the basement washtubs, I watched him skin a squirrel:

Exhale

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It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.

Good Help Is Hard to Find

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Some of them are notorious tweakers. Nobody epitomizes the cowboy-outlaw biker more than the ironworkers, who are wired on Black Beauties they sell on breaks.

Rags to Riches to Rags: Prologue

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My grandfather rode with the Czar’s army. He was abducted from a village in Austria, trained to pillage and drink, plunder and rape, and ride the best horses that could be had. They were given the best vodka and the sharpest swords. They were all just boy

Deal

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I once emailed a man on a dating site who wrote back, “I always thought your writing in the Village Voice was over-rated.”

Rags to Riches to Rags, 1

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1 Al Capone was ruling the backstreets and alleyways of Chicago during Prohibition, and we lived in a little house right next door to a speak-easy. I could peak through our curtains and see right into the bar next door when cops came in to get pai

Rags to Riches to Rags, 2

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My brothers, who helped support our poor mother, were Rudy and Emil, and there was a sister Blanche, who got married early on and ran off to Atlanta and never looked back at our dire situation. And Helen, who stayed in Chicago. And Silvia, who moved out

The Clothes I was Wearing

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How do you forgive an unforgivable crime? I don't know. Maybe you can't. For me, the key to healing has been acceptance, acceptance that this did happen and there is nothing I can do to change it.

#53 Cut Up

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I loved her when she first came calling in the sodden dawn of spring. She was a strange and dangerous flower. Together we drank up all the money. The days staggered away like drunks lurching down a flophouse hall.