My Cardboard Balcony

It's nice to have gotten through one week of summer school. It's nice to know I'm moving into a new classroom next year and will have a studio and new computers. It's nice to return to my former town and have drinks and food with old friends who I haven't seen in a while. It's nice that I got my teeth fixed, even though they still feel a little wonky from the cleaning and fillings I needed. It's nice that I'll be able to celebrate another Father's Day with my dad by taking him to brunch and spending the day with him. ...Okay, I'm going to bed. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Existential Crisis by Belinda Roddie As we edge toward infinity, I remember the number one.

Watch the men all circle her. Watch her as they turn to planets - hardened rock and beings full of hot air, making their orbit each passing day, their revolutions jaunty and lopsided, with awkward sunsets and sunrises. She doesn't notice them. She is facing outward, toward the stars, and all the other galaxies.

I Just Wanted My Teeth by Belinda Roddie I just wanted my teeth to be pristine - healthy and strong, no inconsistencies - and I wanted them to be squeaky clean. Turns out I had two shallow cavities, so I guess my perfect record was ruined just a week before I turned twenty-nine. Also, the dentist said I was doin' a number on my teeth - the clench and grind was a plague upon me! Thus, I shelled out quite a lot of cash for some fillings and a cheap night guard, 'cause God knows with no doubt how I couldn't pay over half a grand for a professional impression. Well, a dental plan saves all my teeth from Hell.

Bruxism by Belinda Roddie There was a young man anxious as can be who ground his teeth before he had his tea and he clenched all day and he gnashed all night 'til his molars were shrapnel of yellow and white

I don't drink margaritas anymore, or eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, because my metabolism has all the agility of a snail caught in a sticky quagmire on a warm and rainy June evening. I feast on salt and arugula and watch everyone else get thinner on beef and beer, and I wonder to myself just when my body decided to rebel against me. When it decided that occasional indulgence was toxic, and it needed to survive thirteen simultaneous Russian winters.