Tag: Bez

  • The Artistic Process

    “Oh my God,” Bez says from in my kitchen. “Have you been eating anything that isn’t bad for you?” I am on the sofa, in grimy sweat pants and a T-shirt I’ve been wearing for three days straight. “I’ve been writing. Nutrition wasn’t important. Productivity was.” “You’re living like a homeless person.” “I wasn’t living…

  • Fries and Shakes

    “That is so absolutely not attractive,” I say. “Wait, wait,” Bez says. “I’m not finished yet.” “Doesn’t it hurt?” “Only if they’re too hot,” she says. “You don’t want to get a burn on the inside.” My phone rings and I answer it without looking, which is unlike me, given my general dislike of the…

  • The Nereid

    This is what I want to show you, this right here: Bez, standing barefoot in the sand, her skirt hiked up mid-thigh as the cold and ceaselessly slipping waves splash against her legs, as the sun turns more and more orange and red as it slips lower and lower below the horizon, as I sit…

  • Wabbit Season

    Bez and I come up the stairs from the BART station, and the first thing we see is a woman on the corner wearing a plastic rabbit mask. It’s a standard Halloween effort, with an elastic band going around the back of her head, a cartoony-Bugs Bunny rip-off. “I’m in love with her,” Bez says…

  • The Return of Richard Widmark

    “This is where he brought her,” Bez says, surveying the room. “They traveled light, no luggage. They weren’t here on a trip, after all.” She is dressed up tonight, tight black dress, low-cut, made up like a movie queen. She had made me do the same before we left, and I feel overdressed, but it’s…

  • Ego Boost

    “I am so far behind on all of my projects,” I say. “It’s really just sad.” “You need deadlines,” Bez says. “A little outside pressure to get you moving.” “What did Douglas Adams say? ‘I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.’” “That’s different,” she says. “He was a…

  • The Color of Water

    Oh, my beautiful Bez, how I dream of you tonight. My sleep has been light, interrupted by dream upon dream of you. In one, we are in a small house in the middle of a field of red poppies, a tiny bent and crooked house, painted white, red brick chimney built at impossible angles. A…

  • Distractions

    Nikola takes me home, once lunch is over, and I kiss him before he rides off on his motorcycle. He’s working on a project that he is eager to return to, one that he won’t discuss with me. I don’t press, because I am the same way when I am working on something as well.…

  • A Tiny House of Magic

    There is a house within the house in which I live. It’s a small house, two stories, with a small wooden porch in front, and small paned windows without shutters, and a small chimney poking out of the small roof, and a small front door with an even smaller brass doorknob, begging a knock. This…

  • Ten Minutes of Writing, Unedited

    I want to get out of bed, I want to try to be productive for the first time in a long time, but Bez’s sleeping body holds me still, and I can’t look away. I always do have trouble getting up when there’s someone beside me in bed, and it’s even worse when it’s Bez…