When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
Real breakthroughs. Bread slicing machine dividing a loaf of rye in perfectly sized slices, a wall of dominoes falling like soldiers, sinking a golf ball in a cup, watching it circle the cup, thwap, thwap, plunk. It’s when you write ten pages, your back howling, your carpals tunneling, time dissolving like the closing shot of a corny movie. You are genius. Every moment is yours, every word that climbs onto your page, that lingers, stays. This is your time. Look both ways before your cross the street.
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Betsy Lerner 
I’m lost without your love…
Those moments are the best. Those are the ones that keep me going. And that last sentence? Like a splash of cold water, a warning not get overly confident about that genius part.
I am genius,
I am failure.
I am a joker.
I am tragic.
I am a writer.
This: What I wish I was feeling right now.
That: I’m so stuck even in my dreams I can’t move. I write and keep waiting for inspiration to strike — walking, Colorado chocolate bombs made with cannabis, zydeco concert and smoking out of a chillum — but nothing seems to be working. I’m out of sync and feeling bad.
Hoping that it changes, but right now I’m going down the road feelin’ bad….
“Your carpals tunneling.” That’s funny.
My friend smokes a decent amount of weed and he said that over time it dulled his creativity and made him stuck. Now he’s on to caffeine and probably other stimulants.
P. S. Glad you liked Bukowski in a Sundress. Patti Smith’s stuff gives me the same feeling about art, writing, etc., too.
Thank you for the suggestion of Bukowski in a Sundress. As for the ganja, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to be straight and see the world that way. Usually doesn’t last for me too long, though. Caffeine’s good, maybe some white cross or other pills, but tell him to avoid meth, unless advice just encourages him.
I’ve never had ten pages come easy. I do love bread slicers though. So rattly and perfect.
I’ve been looking both ways for so long I’m practically a GIF.
Betsy, I don’t know if you read your readers’ comments, but if you do take my advice: forget about bridge and
your mother and publish a book of your blog. You’ll make a million!
Of course I read the comments!
A breakthrough is when I glue my tush to the seat and don’t give up or get up.