• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies 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.
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Father MacKenzie Writing the Words to a Sermon that No One Will Hear


224edd7765882e65a992e903436743c0I think of my writing project as my imaginary friend. It’s all I think about no matter if I’m at a party where bacon wrapped scallops are being served, if I’m waiting outside Whole Foods for the prices to come down, if I’m weeding my weed garden, riding Icelandic ponies on a Vermont farm. It’s me and my imaginary friend on the cyclone, on the hay ride, in the sack, the potato patch, the aquarium and the aquarium gift shop.

Tell me about your imaginary friend.

12 Responses

  1. Mine was a constant companion for months on end, nagging me at every moment, waking me up in the middle of the night. Now that it’s done, I feel like I’ve lost a limb. With no new idea on the horizon it’s bleak and cold in my house.

  2. she’s difficult–drinks too much, smokes too much, fucks around too much. she has the wrong face.


  3. “Tell me about your imaginary friend.”

    Not always friendly, but always around. Never picks up the check (I gave up hoping it might a long time ago). Still, best friend I’ve ever had. Worst enemy, too, except for my own self.

  4. Myself. It’s really fucking weird.

  5. The problem with my imaginary friend is that she’s real.
    That happens, in the nonfiction world, and I want to do her justice.

  6. Mine sometimes reminds me of that commercial for thet poor woman suffering from IBS. Poking, prodding, and generally being rather annoying in general at the worst times. Like when I’m supposed to be paying attention to the conversation around me.

  7. I have several such imaginary friends, and they don’t know about each other. So they hang out in my mind thinking they’re exclusive.

  8. It’s me and today I’m not liking myself much. Feel like, look like, and am acting like crap.

  9. That crow. In the picture. Hopelessly impaled on the acorn pitcher. That’s her.

  10. The crow is embrassing the teapot, a mindmeld if you will, it so, or one must lead to the other in this thought, or does in this thought, to get all classical phrasing on you. I’m with the imaginary me that tells me great things and then tells me I’m stupid for thinking them. I think the science of association would do me the best good but in that science the I have have created might be challenged and then I might have nothing to do but accept that God terrible word Fate and I hate that word. I love you Betsy. You have a good heart. One of the best.

  11. My imaginary world would be more appropriate, and some of my favourite ideas come from dreaming of it. I can’t even escape when I sleep, but then again, I don’t really want to. I’d be happy to go live there. Sail the seas, fight in battles, go raiding, indulge my carnal desires. The real world is far too dull.

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