by BJonston
July 15, 2010 in Personal
I am standing naked in front of the full length mirror near the entrance of my hotel room. I am listening to Jazz. Bill Evans on the piano. The lighting is dim in my hotel room.
I like it that way.
I learned my appreciation for dim lighting and low-level light sources such as table lamps from my grandparents, whose home was always dimly lit as far back as I can remember.
by mockingbird
May 26, 2010 in Deeper Than Down
I’ve started therapy again, with a nice woman on a sliding scale. After an attack on my emotional state aided and abetted by medication roulette, I’m back down to just one anti-depressant, at a dose that makes doctors raise their eyebrows just a tad. And I’m still making it to the gym at least a few times a week. I’m doing all the things you’re supposed to do, so why is it that when my therapist asked me the other week to talk about the most recent time I was happy, I couldn’t think of one?
by Anna
May 4, 2010 in Deeper Than Down
I have finally come out of a deep, dark, nasty smelling pile of depression. Each time I go through one of these spells, which can last from a couple of days to a couple of months, I generally get the same questions while I am in the depression. The questions I am asked are annoying to say the least, and for anyone who has experienced depression of any kind, (situational or clinical–I suffer from the latter, and sometimes the former) I am sure that you can relate to how much it sucks to have to answer these questions over and over again.
February 12, 2010 in 20 Things About Me
1. I am 47 1/2 years old, and sometimes I forget that I am no longer that pretty, skinny blonde I was in my 20′s. I find myself flipping my hair in front of a cute boy and realize that it has been many years since a cute boy has even looked my way.
2. I hate any kind of cooked tomatoes, and strongly dislike cheese, but I love pizza.
by harrietspys
December 15, 2009 in Rants
A friend of the Spys family, Mr. Partridge, owns a vineyard; it has been in the Partridge family for many years. During prohibition, this law-abiding family sold grape juice instead of wine. Indeed, the family did a booming business during this era. Perhaps it was because with each bottle of grape juice, the Partridge Family Vintners included a little public service flyer: explicit instructions on how to prevent the juice from fermenting. Should one do the opposite of the stated directions, the grape juice surely becomes wine. Along those lines…
by i'm a bottle
January 15, 2009 in Food Critic-Critic
Please welcome the latest Wordsmoker – “I’m A Bottle”. Amongst other things, I’m A Bottle will be acting as our very own critic of food critics, which I believe has a delicious logical loop, if not a spicy after-taste of nonsense coupled with the lingering essence of sweet anger. Over to you, I’m A Bottle…
The New York Time
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