Alphabetized Existence page 35-
AMY
The first person with that name I met was named Amy Rubin,
in 3rd grade. She had a twin
brother, who’s name I cannot recall at the moment. Amy and Joel? Amy and David?
Do either of those names go together? In
fact, I’m not even sure if her last name was Rubin, it could have been
Cohen. I do remember it was a Jewish
name.
Since then, I have met two Amys. My best friend Rob’s ceramicist girlfriend in
grad school and a painter of ethereal miniature scenes I met at a Smack Mellon
Residency in Dumbo. I’m sure I’ve had a
few students with that name, but most of their names are forgotten the second I
turn in grades.
AMY ROSENTHAL
The namesake of this exercise in writing that I am
attempting this year. I first discovered
her while looking for fun books to read to the kids for my program at Brooklyn
Public Library. My three favorites are:
Duck !Rabbit!, Spoon and !.
ANSWERING MACHINE
Since Amy’s book, the answering machine has largely been
replaced by voice mail. Though I suppose
people who still have landlines have answering machines. And people of a certain age still use it,
like my mother. It feels so quaint to
listen to the robotic voice of the machine letting us know what number is
calling, so we can ignore it. I remember
the thrill of coming home to my dark apartment and seeing the red blink of the
machine when I used to live alone in my 20s, hoping the man of the moment had
called.
ANXIOUS, THINGS THAT MAKES ME.
The first day of any class I will be teaching, no matter how
prepared I am gives me nightmares, followed by insomnia. The dreams are always the same; I am
somewhere having a great time, and at around 7am in the dream, realize that I
have to begin teaching in a few hours.
There is no way I can make it to class on time, and so I spend the rest
of the dream thinking of how to solve this dilemma until I bolt awake, usually
around 4am. Then I stay up worrying
about class for another 2 hours until I have to drag myself out of bed.
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