Sunday, June 03, 2007


Detritus is my word now. I've claimed it. I've staked it.

Detritus is what is left. It's a "product of disintegration," according to the Bible. Detritus, for me, is all of these shopping bags littering my floor. Packed up by him and filled with my clothes, my makeup, my books. I can't open them. I know my two good dresses are in there -- I have to trust that they are -- but I can't open the bags and look inside. I'll only remember where they belonged in his closet.

Distraction is another component: It's cranked-up music (a lot of Tool lately) or conversation or drinks or general loudness or quips. It's the bartender from Friday night. And Saturday night. It's opening a bottle of wine now, at 5 p.m., because I just can't sit with the feelings I'm having.



Blogger Baron von Douchehausen said...

Well, I was waiting for a somewhat upbeat post before I asked, but, I'm not sure how long I'd have to wait (...I kid...I kid...) (but I am in the dark,) so I'll comment off topic. Maybe, it'll distract you for a sec.

Anyway, I recognize Plath, but for the life of me I cannot figure out the second book.

Any other clues?

6:38 PM  
Blogger NewbietoNYC said...

The clue is in my photo, Baron. Start there.

12:50 AM  
Blogger Baron von Douchehausen said...

Rona Jaffe's The Best of Everything.

I was anticipating Valley of the Dolls.

10:39 AM  
Blogger NewbietoNYC said...

You nailed it, Baron. Although I do love "Valley of the Dolls," I find my allegience lying with TBOE.

1:42 AM  

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