writing as therapy (and why it should be banned)
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2004
J: I’m having an awful memory lapse.
R: ?
J: I can’t remember whether Ollie has died. (Ollie is his marmalade tomcat.)
R: I don’t think so. Peanut died.
J: Yeah.
R (maudlin): And Alfie. And Cinnamon and Nutmeg and Sugar and Candy…
J: Sugar died on your brother’s birthday.
R: I was twelve. I was very sad!
Pause.
R: I wrote a poem.
J (politely): Oh?
R: Let me see if I can remember… Yes. Ahem.
A wound so raw and open
A scar too deep to heal
A hole in the world
The size of a dog
O Sugar!
Come back!
Come back!
We howl with laughter.
R (dabbing eyes): I was very sad.
J: Yes.
R: But that’s a bad poem.
J: No! It’s a perfect example of the teen angst genre! Well, preteen angst, I suppose…
