Why this collective, tacitly-understood expectation that grief for an animal should be brief and relatively tidy?
It was an unorthodox ceremony to be sure, peculiar and solemn as the girl I was then. I loved New Orleans the way you love a person: passionately, even obsessively. I wanted to gather New Orleans into my arms and kiss her.
Once, I spray painted my body gold for a party. With actual spray paint, not body paint. Did I care about chemicals and poison and cancer? No, I did not.
A conspiracy exists and it goes like this: Parties are Fun! I keep falling for it. And then I go to a party
Whatever the reason, I've turned into one of those adults who were incomprehensible to me as a child: one who's ambivalent about Christmas.
Yesterday my husband and I planted a tree. It seemed like a hopeful thing to do in these uncertain and disheartening times. I felt all spiritual about it, I won’t lie. I am a person who hugs trees. I’ve hugged them on hiking trails and in my own backyard. As a human, there’s little else … Continue reading In Which I Meditate Upon Trees and Grasp at Hopefulness in Spite of the Impending Election and My Own Personal Problems
It’s natural—perhaps even biologically sound—to shun the afflicted. In this way, we're no different than other animals who practice this form of social hygiene. We fear infection from illness, and the disruption that comes with psychological instabilities. Our limited reserves of personal energy -- our limited time -- is precious. Moreover, we balk at hopelessness. … Continue reading Our Name is Legion: Or, Sympathy for the Devil