Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of September 16, 2018
I’m canceling my subscription to Esquire after more than a decade of being a loyal subscriber and reader. Since Jay Fielden became editor-in-chief, it’s become an apologetic magazine for angry feminists and their terrified husbands. Granted, the reporting and fiction is still of value but it’s become too hard for me to get past the loaded front half of the rag — even flipping through it — without getting annoyed or feeling talked down to. I’ll miss you, Esquire, but I’ve missed you for a few years now.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of February 18, 2017
• There’s a special sense of accomplishment, renewal and thrill of driving your brand new car off the lot for the first time. I’m glad my wife was finally able to experience that this week.
Epic Political Suicide Poem
Suicide plans on post-it notes
scattered on surfaces,
pieces of furniture, countertops
throughout the apartment.
Stashes of pills stockpiled,
knives sharpened, razor blades
bought in bulk, handles of
bargain brand vodka.
A cozy robe.
Should you force yourself
to wash the sheets? Change
your underwear? Does it matter?
Should you care? Could anyone
care less than you? Suicide
as backup plan when
you can’t think of anything
better to do.
I think my dad had a hard time with retirement. In the five months since stepping away he’d grown increasingly interested in me. I couldn’t tell if it was out of boredom or guilt for not having been more involved in my life up to that point. And though I never felt abandoned by him, it was nice—albeit strange—to get to spend some time with him.