Odd Ends Through Elementary

Crime of Life, December 31, 2009 at 07h06

Herein are various odds and ends of my childhood still sitting in memory.

In the first grade, we had Mad Minute quizzes once a week. Twenty math questions and one minute to do them. During that entire school year, I always came in second, always behind Dayla. Secretly, I often hoped she was sick on these days so that I could come in first.

In the the second grade, my teacher was Madame Bougie. For whatever reason that might come from psychoanalysis of the child I was, I remember once accidentally calling her mom instead of madame. A few classmates laughed at me for this. Continued…


Lyrics, December 31, 2009 at 12h38

Written by Michael Lagace

There are things we didn’t say
Mistakes we didn’t make
And now it’s far too late for fate

You cradled me into the grave
And held me more than I could take
You thought that I wouldn’t break or escape


Prose, December 30, 2009 at 11h15

To my horror, I’d lost her. On each floor, by the stairs, under the bed; she was missing. She, a tiny human baby in its larval form, without any defining features, without bones or muscle, smaller than my palm. I was taking care of my niece in this dream and set her down for a moment, and then either the wind or chance blew and carried her away, over the railing beside me. Frantically, I ran down the stairs — three sets of them — checking for her meticulously at each level, but there she wasn’t.

In time, she appeared from nowhere, a girl that had no insect-like qualities, a girl that looked everything like a beautiful young woman. And it was at this point, in this confusion, that I woke up uncertainly. My pillow still under my head, my love still by my side. My niece, still nowhere.

The Premarin Irony by Michael Lagace

Posted on December 28, 2009 at 03h35
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Then she mentioned how her doctor had initially prescribed her Premarin following her oophorectomy, but she’d chosen natural sources of estrogen instead. It wasn’t out of place in our conversation of animal abuses in society. A vegetarian and animal lover, she was put off by what Premarin was; a compound drug derived from pregnant mare urine. The horses involved in the drug’s manufacturing are kept artificially pregnant and restrained against their will while their urine is collected and used by Wyeth Pharmaceuticals, and because of this lack of movement, they develop many physical disabilities that drastically shorten their lifespan. She told us that she couldn’t allow herself to use this product while there was an alternative that did not harm animals.

And while she told us this, I chuckled sadly and ironically to myself, looking at the three different cheeses sitting half-eaten on the coffee table. Continued…

Let Them Eat Dog by Michael Lagace

Posted on December 27, 2009 at 05h01

By Jonathan Safran Foer (author of Everything is Illuminated), as published in the Wall Street Journal, an excerpt from his novel Eating Animals

Despite the fact that it’s perfectly legal in 44 states, eating “man’s best friend” is as taboo as a man eating his best friend. Even the most enthusiastic carnivores won’t eat dogs. TV guy and sometimes cooker Gordon Ramsay can get pretty macho with lambs and piglets when doing publicity for something he’s selling, but you’ll never see a puppy peeking out of one of his pots. And though he once said he’d electrocute his children if they became vegetarian, one can’t help but wonder what his response would be if they poached the family pooch. Continued…

Bad Apple

Crime of Life, December 25, 2009 at 08h00
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There was a Christmas when I was 15 where I spent the entire day writing an mIRC script. I stopped only to eat, and then immediately afterwards, while my family ate in the dining room, I sat in the corner — paper sprawled out — by myself. Understand that this script was a glorious thing. It would bypass the school’s firewall and allow students to enter a private chat room. This was all against administration policies, of course, but my script worked perfectly. Its only flaw was that I couldn’t figure out how to not get it traced back to me. See, I learned that lesson months earlier, and I’d even been banned ¬†from the computer lab. But hey, that’s a story for another time. Now that I’m older (and some might say more mature) I understand that the holidays are being with the people you love.

All This, Because I Have Lied

Poems, December 23, 2009 at 11h05

my heart now feels so empty
with only this pain inside
I twist and turn intensely
all this, because I have lied
I only offer intention
my strength is in my pride
incredible indiscretion
all this, because I have lied

Preparing for Winter

Prose, December 21, 2009 at 01h43

As winter sets in, life stops. The leaves fall under the snow and trees begin their long wait. The cold snaps at them the entire season long, and all they can do is endure as best they can.

And when the world thaws, the tree begins its fight back to life. Its branches once again form leaves to catch the sun and rain, and it does everything it must to grow stronger than it was. And when the winter begins to set in, the tree endures, because all of nature knows that sooner or later it must.


My Regular Mind, December 20, 2009 at 07h53
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Yesterday afternoon I put on a shirt I hadn’t worn in a while. I was startled. So I went to the bathroom, pulled out the scale, and stood on it. This was when I became worried. It read 138.7 pounds.

I began to reduce my consumption of animals about three years ago. Much of this transition had to do with physical problems I was going through, specifically with my stomach, and since then my diet has fluctuated with a few instances of animals and continued consumption of dairy. It wasn’t until this past summer that I understood that, in line with my ethics, I had to become vegan. To my own detriment, I didn’t weigh myself when I did that, nor had I weighed myself months or years before that. I have little basis for comparison now. Continued…


Crime of Life, December 20, 2009 at 07h07
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I’ve always had a strong inclination to creativity. It never satisfied me enough to enjoy the products of someone else’s creativity; I wanted to create things myself.

In one particular grade, I asked my music teacher if at some point during the year we would be allowed to write compositions that might be performed by the entire class. She said yes, and it wasn’t until the end of the school year that I realized we wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. To me, playing music was all well and good, but I wanted to do more. Continued…