• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies Sometimes I think a meteor could strike the earth and wipe out mankind with the exception of my mother’s Bridge club — Roz, Bea, Bette, Rhoda, and Jackie — five Jewish octogenarians who continue to gather for lunch and Bridge on Mondays as they have for over fifty years. When I set out to learn about the women behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, and most of all the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
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I Don’t Care If I Never Get Back

Thanks to everyone for such warm birthday wishes. I had a great day. Yankees, hot dogs, old friends, lots of cards and calls, and all you wonderful commenters and one lurker. A lurker!

I’m too happy to post tonight. Happiness has never fueled my writing. Personally, I’ve always thrived on misery, depression, anxiety, and rage.

What fuels yours?

29 Responses

  1. Anger seems to serve me best. It clarifies everything. Can’t count how many rough drafts of stories I’ve started with the words: “_______ and I are fighting again.”

  2. Currently it is menopause. So far so good as it is going on and on!

  3. Oddly enough, I’m a happy writer. Used to be an on the verge of cutting my wrists let it all pour out kind of girl. But these days I can’t even pretend I’m a writer. After weeks of a travel induced surge I’m producing total crap. Feces.

    Glad you enjoyed your birthday!

  4. Living in Miami, alcohol and drugs, promiscuity, seedy bars, strip clubs, bad boyfriends, friends in low places (there is actually a bar called “Low Places” on the West Virginia-Ohio border), delusions of grandeur. Well, that explains why I’m *not* writing.

    Seriously, airports and nice trains seem to help the words flow. Maybe I should just rack up the miles.

    How do you know you had a lurker? Do they leave scent markings even if they don’t comment?

    • Seismic events can stir lurkers to comment. In my case, David Foster Wallace posts and Betsy’s birthday. Probably more than enough for one year.

  5. Hurrah for birthdays, glad you had a good one!

    For me, writing thrives on guilt, over-caffination and loneliness.

  6. Running. And happy belated birthday. I’ll see you tomorrow!

  7. Espresso. Black. No sugar. Does the trick every time. Lavazza espresso in the black packaging is awesome, but hard to find. So I hoard it. My cupboard has 17 packages. For real. Can’t go a day without the stuff.

  8. Misery, depression, anxiety, and rage. A belated Happy Birthday!

  9. “Six months out of every year, when we cook for them it never pays; Instead of praising our goulash, they’re appraising the plays of Willie Mays!”

    Damn Yankees….I wish I were Gwen Verdon

  10. Desperation and deadlines. Mostly deadlines, which are awfully hard to come by for me these days. At least from people I respect.

  11. Self righteous indignation when blogging. When writing, I am usually fueled by a big glass of Chardonnay and a desperate attempt to get something to paper before my children crawl up my legs begging for more goldfish, Wii, or crack.

  12. WOW! Misery, depression, anxiety, and rage. Sounds like fun. Where can I get some of that?

    Oh, and my favorite teams are:
    Who ever is playing the Yankees, Notre Dame, and the Lakers in that order.

  13. Since you were at a baseball game yesterday, I wanted to run this by you. Vampires are really hot today, but I suspect they are on the way out. It’s important in writing to catch the new wave rather than surfing down the backside, right?

    I’m thinking about a new breed of creature called “Umpires” who possess super human strength and incredibly keen senses (except eyesight) who can only be recognized by their black uniforms. They have complete disdain for vampires because they are so over. But they carry around the two halves of a broken baseball bat (one for the stake and the other for pounding it in) just in case a vampire gets friskly.

    This could be so big.

  14. When I was hitting puberty, I was fueled by Mickey Mantle (and the Yankees in general). He died a few days after Jerry. For a brief moment, I wasn’t sure which loss was greater. Then I remembered what a complete disillusionment Mantle had ended up being. But oh man, what a god he was for awhile. Jerry, of course, is still a god.

  15. Power, hatred, destruction and despair. Ah, you know, the usual.

    What doesn’t fuel it? Now that is the question.

    Glad you had a great birthday.

    Come back soon, as we need more ‘misery, depression, anxiety, and rage’ as it works so nicely with my lot.

  16. Cheese, mostly.

  17. Driving. It forces me to be quiet and listen to the voices in my head, who blanket me with their stories and insist I make them alive. (This might also help me get out of jury duty someday, I think.)

  18. I miss baseball. Go Jays.

    Caffeine. And when it’s going well, adrenalin.

  19. Imagination

  20. What initially gets me going is self-righteous rage at a person. I start off by satirizing them to pieces, and take it from there. Eventually kinder emotions toward other characters enter the fray, but it takes personal rage to sound the starting gun and set the tale aspinning.

    • Yes! I’m with you on this — truly is great revenge (muah ha ha ha ha ha!)

      When I’m angry with someone, I think to myself “I’ll turn you into a blog post!” and this allows me to smile at them and walk away without throwing a sucker punch to their solar plexis. You know, since I plan on doing it on the internet : )

  21. A desire to amuse; engage; surprise; please.

  22. Hangovers, hot showers and long walks.

  23. Rage and beauty. “A cat’s rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering.” (W.S. Burroughs)

  24. thanks to you and my sister for saving me today. Your writing is fabulous and hysterical. My kids are coming in in 10 minutes. i need to read more.

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