What's Anti Anyway?

Forrest is learning about the world through his toys, which are a mix of legos and transformers and bionicles. He built something out of all three that was a scary skeleton-horse, and my step-mom said, "Is that your anti-pegasus?" Forrest responded in the derisive tone he uses when you know something he doesn't, "What's an anti-pegasus anyway?" "Well," my step-mom said wandering into the kitchen to make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, "Anti means opposite. So if a pegasus is a good horse, an anti-pegasus is a bad horse. If matter means something is something, then anti-matter means it's nothing." Forrest looked toward the kitchen where her voice was coming from with a blank expression. Later, when I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a white russian, Forrest came over and put something tiny in my hand. I looked at what was the cutest lego creation I've ever seen, a single unit grey lego with a little white skeleton lego head of the same size stuck on top. "That's an anti-mouse," says Forrest very seriously. "Thanks, Forrest, " I say, and kiss him while I burst inside.

"When you organize one of the contradictory elements out of your work of art, you are getting rid not just of it, but of the contradiction of which it was a part; and it is the contradictions in works of art which make them able to represent us- as logical and methodical generalizations cannot- our world and ourselves, which are so full of contradictions." Randall Jarrell

Alice worked out at the gym, did hot yoga, cooked from scratch, rode a bicycle everywhere, grew tomatoes in a little pot on her kitchen windowsill, and worked for a non-profit. In addition to all this, she tried to cultivate healthy relationships. The only thing that didn’t fit was her smoking cigarettes. Her sister argued that this was the obvious reason to stop. “It’s just not you,” she would say. But it seemed to me that this was a very good reason for her to continue smoking- that last habituated trace of her life in New Jersey where she also wore gold jewelry and red lingerie. Otherwise, she would be too cohesive- and when are we ever cohesive unless we are also contrived? Smoking kept her authentic. If she didn’t occasionally smoke, wouldn’t she be like all the other people with eco-sneakers and Sigg bottles; vegetarians (except for fish), avid recyclers, buy-localers?

Well, she did quit smoking. And I think that, more than my moving across the bridge, more than petty jealousies and leonine competition, is to blame for our friendship falling off. I mean, who wants to be friends with an identity? 

cycle head

Today my half-brother Forest who is four and young enough to be my own child came running in the house to tell me about the mouse he'd found in the yard. "The Kitty kiwed it and ate a littew bit of it. I don't yike the kitty- she hotes things. I want to give away the kitty." My step mother who was putting on leather pants to go to a Bachelorette party said "You're right, honey, it's not very nice," drowning out my own explanation of the cycle of life. I sort of trailed off and started snooping around in the change and hardware on my dad's dresser while Forest made half-hearted kicking motions toward the the cat. He abruptly turned and walked out of the room. "Cycle-head" I heard him mutter under his breath as he passed me.