Tag Archives: dissociation

Vault

In mid-April of my first year with Blue, I went to spend the afternoon at Michael’s apartment. From the Metro stop, I turned down side streets canopied with the chartreuse of early Ginkgo leaves, past the power restaurants that ring … Continue reading

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Contact

When Michael was sweet sixteen, he decided to spend the entire summer at home rather than busing up north to sleep away camps. He helped babysit the twins and puttered in the barn with a welding gun, building a metal … Continue reading

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Tango

Prelude: As I rev down my engines and prepare to go on blogging hiatus for the next couple of weeks, I thought I should take this opportunity to skip ahead in the story a bit, to a chapterlet called “Tango.” … Continue reading

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House

Rich lived in a house with grandeur of the sort that gives permission and makes you feel taller on opening each door rather than diminished by the height of the ceilings or the breadth of space. Its exterior was of … Continue reading

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The Written Life

I’ve been reflecting on that old chestnut about how you should write what you know. The theory goes — familiarity lends more layers to the telling, lets details seep through and generates the confidence it takes for the pen to … Continue reading

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Michael

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” … Continue reading

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Interruption

A year or so into my time with Blue, I entered a painting phase. This is a depiction of the moment of fragmentation. Hopefully despite the blurry photo, you can see the influence of Florine Stettheimer, a favorite modernist who … Continue reading

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