Tag Archives: apologies

Amended Minutes

Today, a fantasy baseball league I am in held their winter meetings. This was a two and a half hour discussion with people in four time zones and two hemispheres. We figured out the rules and guidelines of our upcoming season. No drafting was done, no trades were made — this was merely discussing the minutiae of mechanics for a league where no one makes any money.

One of the later points of discussion (under the “Enduring Freedoms” category) was opening the idea to holding mainly-sardonic elections for a league hall of fame, honoring the famous baseball players who most amuse us. A few options were thrown out for when we would hold these elections: beginning of the season, during the playoffs, after the championship is decided. (You can see why the meetings lasted so long.) During the chatter, I tossed out, “Why not during the all-star break?” No one has any players to pay attention to, and even if you wanted to watch major league baseball games, you only get one in three days. Plenty of time for frivolous balloting. Everyone agreed that this was a good idea, and we moved on.

Later, when the minutes of the meeting were posted (we have an official league secretary who handles writing up the minutes of all meetings), I flipped through to review the proceedings. In doing so, I noted that, due to a clearly understandable and unsurprising error, one of my fellow L.A.-based video chatters received credit for the all-star break idea. I have spent the past hour having to remind myself that this is not a big deal and that there’s no way to subtly or jokingly point out that it should be corrected without having it come across as passive-aggressive and petty. As soon as I convince myself of this, I only have five or so minutes until the desire to grab credit, demand it, rises up again.

I am writing this to confess how small my thoughts can be. To display the weakness of my spirit for you all to see. And, also, to let you know I deserve credit for this marginal suggestion, something that can barely be called an idea.

This is what I’ve become. Maybe this is what I’ve always been.

A Slight Delay

She sat alone in the booth for forty minutes before ordering. Breaking the yolk with the fork in one hand, she used the other to tap out an angry text. “Do you have any grasp on the concept of what it means to have standing weekly plans?”

Three weeks and one day later, her phone buzzed with his reply: “of course i do.”

Reverse Aubade

He usually sleeps through my nightmares

I wake up kicking at nothing, tangled

in the sheets after battling against

something I’ve already forgotten.  Sorry,

I whisper, holding my breath until

I hear the soft, throaty sigh that means

he’s still asleep.  My eyes won’t close—

or rather, stay closed—for hours after

as I try to bore myself to unconsciousness:

counting by fours, reciting every third letter

in the alphabet, naming each teacher I’ve had

in reverse chronological order.  Silently,

of course.  He’s slept through earthquakes,

snoring quietly on his side, facing the middle

of the bed, but I still don’t risk disturbing him,

ruining his day before it starts.  Inches from

his side of the bed, I’m aching to do something

or fall asleep.  The ceiling hasn’t changed

since my eyes adjusted to the dark.  When

sunrise begins to tint the curtains,

I cover my face with a pillow, wanting

to groan over another restless night.

I never stay asleep at his place.

He lifts the pillow and peeks at me,

grinning and drowsy.  I apologize

and don’t know why.  He breathes

a word I can’t understand, moving

his head to my pillow as he bends

his body along mine, his pulse

setting a slower beat for mine to

match and drift to sleep with.


I am sliding phrases

built along drifting analogies of suffering sophomoric-


I am as complicated as your breaths,

And as easy as the girls my friends all lay-


I am decisions to be made,

times to adhere to,

and things to be respected-


But I am juvenile,

and your hand tastes better than any dish you ever plated-


So forgive this era of ours

and the leaders my head elects-


They make beautiful platforms,

full of promises as they are rot-


I wanted to take you along,

but this ribcage said it only held space for one-


And he doesn’t even like me that much…