jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


If you live in Haiti now you can shit your life out in a matter of hours. On the radio, an international relief doctor says this could be avoided simply. People just need to be cleaner, you know, the ones who have been living forgotten in tent cities for nearly a year now.

I normally go dormant on Saturdays, except for the ones where I am still working. And I am still working over the man who came to see me yesterday, unhappy about prior treatment. His story is far away behind his eyes but I can read it still. I would not have wanted to be left alone with him, not without seeing his VA files first.

A gap in the rain today allows me a trip to the grocery store. The parking lot is filled with napping carts and I navigate into a space between them. This store is down at the heels, nearly empty, as always. The lighting is harsh, the wheels are rusty, but I never feel judged here, never feel impatient. Also, the raspberries are three for one again this week.


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