• 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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If You Go Chasing Rabbits

I take a pill for my moods. I take a pill to boost the pill I take for my moods. I take a pill for my thyroid, and a pill to help the thyroid pill. I take a pill to sleep and a pill to wake. I take a pill for dreams and a pill for nightmares. I take a pill to crap, and a pill not to crap. I take an iron pill. And magnesium. I take a pill to help me write. A pill to help me read. I take a pill for memory and a pill for forgetting. I take a pill for nosebleeds and sexual tension. A pill to help me drive at night, to reduce the effect of bad manners, and to get the waiter’s attention. I take a pill to pitch books, handle rejection, conduct auctions, and parlay offers. Infrequently, I have to take a pill to let an author down when his book doesn’t sell. That is a bitter pill.

What do you take?

45 Responses

  1. I’m lucky. I take one pill a day plus an occasional aspirin. I could take others but have chosen not to do so.

  2. Welcome to the 21st century…
    The bitter pill is the worst…

  3. I take a pill in order to take a lot of shit from a lot of people.

    I notice you didn’t mention taking a pill to write your blog posts. So you’ve got that going for you. Remember that. And what the Dormouse said. Remember that, too.

  4. I take a pill to keep my heart going, another to keep my skin intact, another to prevent a destructive microbe from building cell walls in my cells. It keeps me busy.

  5. A handful of OTC vitamins and a pot of strong coffee are my ‘medicinal takes’. Weed-pulling and one mile walks with the dog act as a catharsis for the other stuff.

  6. I take whatever I need and I justify it however I can.

  7. I wash down a couple Advil liquicaps with diet Pepsi almost every morning during pollen season.

    ‘Cause I live on the edge, baby.

  8. It creeps up on you, the pill taking. Today, after I visited my dr. and was given two new pill prescriptions, had one doubled and one halved, I bought one of those seven day pill holder plus pill cutter cases at Walgreens (like sunday monday tuesday underwear, except I’m not sure where the pill cutter comes into that comparison) — and the pills barely fit inside. It was upsetting, and then I took the pills and felt much better.

    • I’m guessing that, if such a device existed in the lingerie department, the pill cutter would be the equivalent of some appliance that would modify panties into thongs. Or did I see that advertised on some late night info-mercial?

  9. I take life’s punches and hope for the best. It will all work out with time, we have become entirely too anxious as a society and we all just need to calm down.

  10. Wait, you have a pill to help you write? I want to go to there.

  11. A nap.

  12. Shit. Let’s go back to yesterday’s RomCom question.

    Booze and coffee. That’s all. Pretty pedestrian, eh?

  13. I can’t fucking sleep, dream, read, write, remember, crap, pitch, or parlay. So in honor of yesterday’s question: “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  14. See that’s what I need, a taste of my own medicine.

  15. My pills come in chic boxes and have tall heels.

  16. I decided not to take something, but to give something up. Gluten, then corn. Now I don’t have to nap off the daily fatigue, and the constant companion of mild anxiety has, if not gone entirely, wandered off up a hill, almost out of hearing. I have become a gluten intolerance prophet. I’m such a pill.

  17. Once, not long ago, I took some pills that lifted the veil from my dreams and presented everything as crystal clear, including vivid nightmares with the sharp knives gleaming all along the edge and the reddest of blood flowing like a salty river. The side effects were I sat staring out the window all day wanting nothing more than to go out into the winter woods and shoot myself. Bad thing was, the pills (Flagyl and Cipro) where prescribed to treat an ailment I did not have. That sucked.
    Now I take a pill to chase the wolves from the door and keep my eyes on the road and my hands upon the wheel. Sometimes late at night when I can’t sleep, I take a memory pill to remind me where I’ve been was probably worse than where I’m going. Thrilling. As a last resort, I’ll swallow a tri-color solace pill, one infused with self-aggrandizement and tender mercies; an overdose of empathy.
    And it’s alright when I go for a walk in the woods.

    • I know those woods. I haven’t found a pill that would let me walk in them, although I do chase the rabbit down the hole of my hash pipe when I’m looking for a way in. Or out?

  18. My favorite is the pill-ow. When I’m down and out, feeling low, I’ll cross that bridge over troubled water and lay me down and sleep, perchance to dream. When I awake it is to the dawn of Aquarius, and I let the sunshine in, my true mystic revelation. That’s my drug of choice. Forget asking Alice. ‘Cause she don’t know. That white rabbit? Can’t be trusted.

  19. Birth control!

  20. I take my own sweet time, a lot of bullshit, and six pills. I could use some Magnesium.

  21. I don’t take pills, I am a pill.

  22. Is there a pill that helps you REwrite? Rewriting is hard. [cries] [looks for pills]

  23. I personally am most interested in getting my hands on that pill for nosebleeds AND sexual tension. Because, as everyone knows, where there’s one, the other’s not far behind at all.

  24. Says a lot about a person — what’s in her medicine chest? I actually don’t store meds there, but unless I lost count, you’re as busy swallowing pills as I am. And we know the ones that mother gives you don’t do anything at all — hence the psychopharm is a critical player on our team, to make the synapses have a proper marching order.

  25. I take Wellbutrin, which apparently can increase libido and promote weight loss…but alas, not for me. It does give me a great deal of energy but has not diminished my love of eggplant, pasta, cheese, or chocolate. I should take magnesium and Iodoral for my thyroid. I did remember to take a swig of my liquid vitamin D3, which absolutely makes a difference.

    • @Debra Weiner. I hope the Welbutrin hasn’t dissappointed you. I take it, and it keeps me from killing people, but that is not one of the advertised effects. I believe the libido claim is that it MAY not decrease your libido as other anti depressants might.
      Good crowd to run with tho.

  26. I remember to take my magnesium when my heart gets too loud. My coffee is limited to one per day, and I find that, as much as I hate to admit the “exercise people” were right, a little physical activity helps my outlook.

  27. I take a whole load of shit, and I’m getting tired, and bitter. I must confess. Well, fame, and the need to correct an unexplainable world has its price, apparently. Go figure. And when in doubt, when shaking in your boots for being Mr. or Mrs Nice Person, go fuck yourself and get the fuck away from me before I kill you, works sometimes. Your self-esteem might like you more than most folks. Fuck ’em. Don’t kill yourself for assholes. Thus spreaketh Jeff.

    • Have you killed many people, Jeff? Where do you bury them?

      • In all honesty Tetman, if you must ask,you will never find them. I hate to be an asshole, making things, as you call them, hard on you, but, well, that’s the way it works now ain’t it. Good luck! Professor!

      • It’s just as I suspected, you bury them under your fingernails.

      • I’ve thought about this for a couple of days now, that’s what I get for reading this blog, but the truth is they are hiding in plain sight. I hope that was close to what you meant, but I’m not sure. But, believe you me, they are hiding in plain sight. Plain-sight? Is that the write word? Ah, fuck, who cares.

  28. I’m sorry, did I not make sense? What I meant to say was, You can not change the world, so, don’t hurt yourself over it. Most folks want a little soap-opera revenge and nothing more. If you think in your heart of hearts that you will somehow change the world to a better place to live by telling your sad story, you have been buffaloed by 18th century hacks, that is how they made their money. So, now, Yikes! there are no rules. Go figure in a deep forest with trickling streams or a freeway with unending clanging and force, The joke of Art, as they say, the handlers, is that Art is something different than just being alive. I must confess that I have been a simple man that has been sucked into the sentimental, suggestibility of being an Artist, but I would rather not live in my own mind, as they say, oh, boy, who is they, and I would rather live real live people, as much as I hate them for their ignorance. It’s a thin line, that has no color: Sorry desperate slaves to identity. Get another tattoo and disappear, if you don’t mind. Life, will always be hunting you. Yo!

  29. Like Debra, I take Wellbutrin. I chose it specifically because it wouldn’t fuck with my libido. Even though there’s no one to fuck right now, I refuse to stop fucking myself.

    It does, however, royally fuck with my stomach…and consequently makes me glad there’s no one in my bed.

    Unfortunately, it does nothing for my depression. (And I feel the need to say “my depression” is a pathetic, whiny, slightly-Scarlett-O’Hara phrase.)

    On the upside, it HAS cut my interest in cigarettes by half. It’s amazing frankly, I actually forget to smoke. And I can prove that with my bank account.

    But then again, I’ve been told by the medical people that I need to let go of the somewhat obsessive (and I’m being euphemistic) bourbon habit. Cold turkey. Full stop. But if I do that while taking Wellbutrin, there’s a good chance I’ll wind up on the floor of my office, convulsing and wetting myself.

    (Let it be known that there is a group of my colleagues who practice yoga in the conference room during lunch time. I consider this a serious–and quite horrifying–breach of personal boundaries. I.e., I do NOT want to see my co-workers in yoga positions! So you can guess that having a seizure in front of them is a deal-breaker for me.)

    So alternatively, I’ve been told by the medical people to gradually decrease my drinking. Minus 20 percent every three days.

    Unless one of them comes and stands guard over the bottle, I don’t see that happening. And I don’t think my HMO will pay for that.

    So yeah. I’m drunk and depressed, but I didn’t have a cigarette today until 6:00 p.m.

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