LOVE & MATING
Meet Jim Baur, the man playing classical guitar at a ceremony near you.
by michael solita
LOVE & MATING.
Married; then unmarried.
by erik solita
NOT YOUR DAY.
Never mind Ms. Post — this is the real bridesmaid’s etiquette.
by jennifer mathieu
LOVE & MATING.
Starter marriages and the single man. What’s with the stampede to the chapel?
by ben kim
CHAPTER & VERSE
Brutal Liza is back — and Right Before Your Eyes.
by ellen shanman
Short fiction: My terror ends in masks, zippers and blood on the rug. Part II of II.
by trish elms
Short fiction: Moving out, one CD at a time. Part I of II.
by trish elms
MS. AND MRS.
From: “annie abrams”
As usual, I got lost in the pile of boring nothingness that is my life recently and have neglected to keep up on email. Actually, I traveled out of state for a few days, so that’s a regular adventure for me. Let’s just ignore that it was only to go to San Francisco to get an apartment. Actually, why don’t we ignore that it wasn’t even San Francisco, but a remote suburb that is smaller than the town I live in now. Why do I even have to try at this being cool thing? I lost that battle years ago.
...Speaking of years ago, you will never guess who I recently reconnected with: my BFF from nursery through high school, Ginger Elizabeth Lowe. Well, now it’s Ginger Elizabeth Finch. As I know you already know, she’s a married mom now in Wyoming. I haven’t talked to her in years, and then my dad brought her name up because there was a notice in the paper back home that her sister was engaged, and before I thought better of it I emailed her. She called me and we caught up. It was both nice and slightly disturbing at the same time. Nice: She’s still open, honest, sweet and kind. Slightly disturbing: Our conversation kept getting interrupted with her having to tell some kid (she only has the twins, but it appears moms tend to gather young ones near them on a regular basis) to get off this, or spit out that, or have a carrot, not a cookie.
Thankfully, she ended the conversation before I had to say that I myself had to go so as to have time to buy beer to sneak into a softball game that I go to every Monday night before drunken karaoke. It appears that I am neither cool, nor mature.
Anyway, she’s the same old Ginger in many ways: loving, generous, confident and happy. We have, however, shot to opposite ends of the sphere on conservatism. She is very much into god and no premarital sex and talking about d-i-v-o-r-c-e instead of divorce. I felt kind of b-a-d because I have a p-o-t-t-y mouth and I like to f-u-c-k my boyfriend, but then I thought, h-e-l-l, I don’t have kids, I ain’t gotta be all correct about s-h-i-t (sorry, hard habit to break). Anyway, I am very happy that I have the life I have, and she seems very happy with hers, and all is well. Except, of course, that I don’t want to be judged or looked down on because my boyfriend won’t marry me and if I were preggers I’d terminate before the word go. Some things are best not shared. But she really is one of the nicest, most caring people I have ever met in my life and I admire her motherhood. Can you admire someone’s state of being/status? Anyway, it was a blast from the past. I will probably drink heavily tonight and bum cigarettes from dirty strangers.
By the way: I ended up getting hopelessly drunk at karaoke and royally pissing off boyfriend Perry by singing a Grease song with a hot guy. He (and others present) also claims that I was flirting every time I passed said guy on the way to the bar. It didn’t help that he pointed at me during a Billy Joel song and I thought it would be fun to swoon. I think I need to cut down on the booze.
annie abrams does some mean karaoke.