...before that troubled imprint, a land apart, and isles of parts, of shagged bark and burred wind...
Right ON. I am an Xer and I worked at Fast Company the first year it was published. Of course, as a temp. There, I read Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed and was like, YEP. And Time magazine who tried to play like we Xers were a waste of space. The part about getting the rug ripped out from under us. Definitely. My dad had years of job security, and my mom is still living off his forced retirement when it all went to shit. I think becuase we watched the world go from secure, to “a bill of goods” in only a couple decades, we should all just go to wine country and raise a glass to our resilience!! We are Generation Resilience! Let’s coin it.
I am a member of Generation X. I had to look this up recently because I could not remember the name of my generation or if I even belonged to one at all. People my age don’t generally identify as Generation X, but maybe because when the term was first introduced—by boomers—it was as an insult. The idea was that we were slackers. Our best dance move was standing and nodding. We majored in English and art therapy. We read Salinger’s other books. We smoked weed and ate mushrooms. And it was like we didn’t even appreciate it, man. We are the middle children, doing, by all accounts, exactly what we are supposed to be doing with little to no credit.
There has been so much talk recently about how the Boomers are greedy assholes and the Millennials are awesome but super anxious about it, and I was thinking, wait…
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A Proper Privacy - It has always tickled me when books of a certain vintage would abbreviate names and places that the author didn’t need to disclose. I think it was a Victorian convention. Even in fiction, they’d say, “When I met M- on the street, he seemed chipper, which was out of character.” As… Continue reading Of Alphabets and Friends
Illustrations Add Value to a Memoir. Click for pic!
The Day Off 4am: The smell of burnt toast awakens me. Is Matt drunk-cooking again? Is that a fan I hear down there, still faintly going? Will it be nasty-cold in the kitchen? I make a move to check. First, warm pants. Yesterday’s double black stretchies will do, underwear still in, just as I had… Continue reading The Day Off: 4am
She says, “Open your bag,” and plunders the grapefruit box. Six or seven grapefruit go right on top the banana. Another line of cans. “No thank you, no thank you, no thank you,” I say to the diced tomatoes, wheat pasta and khaki frosted cupcakes.
THE THIRD THING There’s Fact, there’s fiction, and there is the third thing Manifesting in real time. Dreams. Confusing the black with the white. There’s right, there’s wrong, and then--the gray area Doubling down on a choice. Walking a tightrope, feeling the way. There’s good, there’s evil, there’s lost, there’s found, but then there’s… Continue reading Beyond the Dual