“Mommy, you’re a hippo.” “I’m a what?! Why?!” “You’re a mommy hippo. Because I want to be a baby hippo.” “Oh.” “I’m a baby hippo, but I’m also Denzel.” “So like a baby hippo whose name is Denzel?” “No, sometimes I’m a baby hippo, other times I’m Denzel.” “OK.” “Mommy, you’re also a baby strawberry.”Continue reading ““Do Marines like cake?” “Does God have a butt?” Conversations with a five-year-old”
When starting a letter to the other side, I first want to point out that things are mostly fine I mean, sure, there’s a war on, thousands have died But I grew some nice boobs while you were away, Sir Robin (ha ha). The economy you always lamented Is somehow even deader Than you couldContinue reading “A decade without”
While I was busy hopping planes and reading Orthodox prayers at dangerous altitudes, Paul Newman passed away. He was a sex symbol way before I was even born, leading most of my friends to diagnose my crush on him as a symptom of raging insecurities. In some ways, I suppose my friends were correct. ButContinue reading “Goodbye Paul Newman, Goodbye Blue Eyes”
“…dead has a smile like the nicest man you’ve never met who maybe winks at you in a streetcar and you pretend you don’t but really you do see and you are My how glad he winked and hope he’ll do it again.” – e.e. cummings.”
I started writing an obituary, but realized that I couldn’t discuss this death without mentioning the recent passings of Pugovkin and Mordyukova. So here is the somewhat-more-complicated-than-intended Solzhenitsyn obituary.