Laughing Through the Blood

Laughing Through the Blood

by RasmeniaNo Comments
I got the shopping cart for Xmas when I was 3 years old. Immediately, I began planning a shopping trip to 7-11. No, not a grocery store. Just as I would later insist as a stoned teenager craving a Super Big Gulp and risky nachos, it had to be the goddamn 7-11.The adults informed me I could not just wander off on a convenience store expedition on my own. This annoyed me. Stupid adults.Opportunity struck when I was left in the care of my Uncle Jay one afternoon. As soon as he turned his back, I grabbed my shopping cart and made a hasty exit. I still remember when he found me. Red-faced, panicked, and angry, my uncle pulled his car along the curb as I merrily strolled down the sidewalk, pushing my cart, with no idea how to get to 7-11 or anywhere else.“Get your ass in this car.”I got my ass in the car.Uncle Jay was 6’4” and...
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I Feel So Different

I Feel So Different

by RasmeniaNo Comments
People crowd the street, most of them women with flecks of silver in their hair and lines on their face etching a map back to who they used to be: young women full of joy and anguish. Weird, creative girls trying to survive the constant pressure of what parents, friends, schools, and institutions said they couldn’t and shouldn’t do. Lonely girls who want to scream and dance and smash convention and patriarchy but feel powerless to do so.The music in the street gets louder and one woman in the crowd, a grandmother in leather and Doc Martens, pounds on her heart with her fist, eyes closed, oblivious to all those around her as she sings along with Sinéad:I'll remember it And Dublin in a rainstorm And sitting in the long grass in summer Keeping warm I'll remember it Every restless night We were so young then We thought that everything We could possibly do was right Then we moved Stolen...
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Resurrection Through Fiction

Resurrection Through Fiction

by RasmeniaNo Comments
Somewhere in northern Colorado there's a dingy gray duplex sitting on a cul-de-sac near the railroad tracks. Behind it is a dry, yellow field where grasshoppers and mice keep busy.One half of the duplex is occupied by my mother and a version of me at 16 years old. The other half is occupied by another single mother and her 16-year-old son, Shawn.My friend Shawn.We call one another "Neighbor Boy" and "Neighbor Girl."We call the duplex "Our House."There are shenanigans. There's trouble and fun. But life is always fucking with things, flipping them upside down, changing them into something new and almost unrecognizable.People drift apart. They move away, have adventures and things happen to them.By the time we turn 19, Shawn is a quadriplegic due to a car accident and I'm in Florida, acquainting myself with the redneck bar scene.I soon flee back to Colorado, and from time to time, I run into my old friend at a party, a mutual...
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Break Through These Times of Trouble

Break Through These Times of Trouble

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
This is a love story. It is not unique. I've lived others like it, and so have you. Like many love stories, this one ends with tears, confusion, and a lot of reminiscing about its beginning. Where it began was 1991, a time in my memory that is strange, dark, and forever distorted by a thick layer of time and smoke. It was an unhappy time, immersed in anger, abuse, and large amounts of cheap booze. My mother and my boyfriend at the time had a weird and wildly inappropriate thing going on together. When I'd catch them in the act, they responded by telling me I was crazy. I felt crazy. This was compounded by the fact that we three lived in the same house. I wanted him to leave. She did not. Every day, I was furious and frustrated. But, one day, just as 1991 was nearly at an end, on a not so very special day in...
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Stories, Meat Sacks and Pagliacci Suspenders

Stories, Meat Sacks and Pagliacci Suspenders

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
“What's wrong with death sir? What are we so mortally afraid of? Why can't we treat death with a certain amount of humanity and dignity, and decency, and God forbid, maybe even humor. Death is not the enemy gentlemen. If we're going to fight a disease, let's fight one of the most terrible diseases of all, indifference.” -Patch Adams * * *I used to have a really cool pair of suspenders. I wore them whenever I had the chance and along with my Wonder Woman Underoos, they were probably one of the most special items in my wardrobe. Maybe, if you were a kid in the late 70s, you had the same pair.If you did have a pair, or even if you didn't, you probably knew why some of those weird kids were into rocking the rainbow suspenders.Because Mork rocked the rainbow suspenders. And Mork was awesome.In 1982, the year that Mork and Mindy came to an end, my mother and...
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Hey, Mourning Famous People is Totally Okay

Hey, Mourning Famous People is Totally Okay

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
Somewhere in 1986, there's a younger version of me. A version of me with skinny legs, knobby knees and no realistic sense of the future or adulthood. That version of me sits in her room, reading books and staring at the posters on the walls, of which there are many, daydreaming and imagining the future she wants. Like a lot 13 year-olds, she has mad crushes on golden movie star faces.River Phoenix was my dream guy. I watched Stand By Me and fell in love. I got older. He got older. I kept watching. When I saw him as a young Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade, I got so geeked out and giddy, I thought I might swallow my fucking tongue.Somewhere in 1993, there's a 20 year-old version of me sitting in a sparsely furnished apartment. The couch stinks and is covered in stains. The bathroom ceiling is black with rot and mold; pieces of it fall into the...
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