Or will it be next month?
My little sister called me from the bar she works at in Virginia. Dave Matthews pops up every once in a while, it’s a hot spot.
“No one is here. It’s weird.” She says, her voice echoing amidst the empty tables and chairs. She and her husband are going to Iceland for a vacation next week. A country that is on the brink of filing for bankruptcy.
“I know.” I’ve got nothing to say that will make her feel better, “It’s happening isn’t it?” We can’t make it here anymore.
People aren’t shopping, aren’t eating out – freezing all spending. The government and us.
I went to a concert tonight. Death Cab for Cutie. Amazing.The band and the crowd. Everyone happy and satisfied. Places to sleep, jobs, food, beer. I’m hoping I’m wrong. That they’re wrong. But what if they’re not? No one really knows. And as a single mother, whose child support amounts to four percent of her income, I’m feeling very primal about dating right now.
Do I need a man?
Do I want a man?
I may need a man to punch some son-of-the-bitch in his face if he tries to steal my son’s food but I may want a man to tell me everything is going to be okay.
Anyone else feeling this way?
This does not mean I’m going to hunt a man down just to serve up these requests – believe me – I’m not sold on the whole husband or man idea by any means. We’ll just have to make a commune of single parents. Anyone own an island? Let’s start plotting.
In the meantime, I’m going to take a karate class or something.
Back up reading (to keep you up at night) Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood.
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