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| ed white, mature porn gallery , petite mature porn , granny tits , sean stone, commentary, sex with older men porn , contests, mature older sex , 187 on a mother fucking cop , mature pussy vids , mature slut movies , denver art, portillo, children, | I jesus simply don't remember. Or don't want to remember, I don't know. jesus What I would assume is that, like always, nothing would happen. Dinner would resume, my father would leave the kitchen, brow furrowed, off to read the China Daily News or watch the McNeil-Lehrer news hour. My mother would pick up the leftover dishes from the kitchen table. And my sister would probably do what she usually would do — fight the invisible fight with her head between sanity and the fascinating conversations she has between Barbara Bush and Princess Di and then admit defeat jesus at the end of the night to the voices in her head, waves of apathy washing over her. Apathy not quite different from my feelings towards the world right now. 28 Jul 2003 04:44 AM :: Comments (35) mini-blog stuff Some really quick notes about the mini-blog section on your right: Starting today, you can now post comments to specific links in the mini-blog. |
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| "You can work at MaiDangLao!" contests McDonalds, my mother said. We all throw dirty looks at her and she continues washing dishes. "I'm NEVER going to contests work there. I wanna be a street person!" She says "I wanna be a street person" the way a five year old contests boy declares that he wants to be an astronaut, and I look down and I zone out and swallow big gulps of rice because I know exactly what's going to happen. "DOGSHIT!" he screams in Chinese. He doesn't say anymore but you can tell what he wants to say in his eyes; "how dare you, how dare you insult yourself by saying you will be a street person when I have worked my body until it ached, how dare you insult me because I have provided and pushed and prodded and lectured and demanded the good life for my children and this is what I get in return?" And this is how my flashback ends. I can't recall what I do from here, whether I run to my room upstairs and slam the door sobbing or where it's later in life, where I stare at a spot of the table and disassociate myself from the world at a drop of a hat, a talent I can still master to this day. |
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