oh, I’ll write when work calms down, when I get back to town, on the weekend, on the weeknights, I’ll write when rehearsals end, when my nose stops bleeding, when I quit feeling so damn sad, when I quit drinking, when I am not so busy trying and failing to accomplish some trivial sexual conquest. I’ll write as soon as I get out of this taxi cab, out of this dentist’s chair, out of the blankets on this mattress on the dirty floor. I’ll write when people I know stop being sent to the hospital, when I never again have a reason to dial 911. I’ll write when I stop feeling afraid walking around late at night, when I stop needing to keep telling myself and everyone else what it means to treat somebody right. I’ll write when I stop pretending I know all the words to a song everyone else seems to like, when I stop pretending to be a lesbian when I don’t have the balls to tell some guy that I just don’t want to talk to him and the word boyfriend isn’t enough. I’ll write when I’m fiscally responsible. I’ll write when I floss. I’ll write when I don’t cringe every time I think about everyone I dated in high school. I’ll write when I’m dead. Or… no, that’s not it. I’ll write when the stereotype of a female writer does not include only posthumous success. I’ll write when I have something to say. Forgive me.
Forgive me, it’s late, early, malt liquor’s no dinner, and I rarely feel completely at ease.