Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Today, July 31st, 2008 would be the 45th birthday of Robbie Laufer. He died in December of 2003 of brain cancer. F*ck cancer.

Robbie was loyal, smart, piercing, affectionate. He was a friend, teacher, coach, mentor, and truth-teller.

Robbie taught me about some of the finer things in life, like Animaniacs, the WNBA, smurfs, and the joys of lounging in bed, watching movies, and eating pizza. Robbie connected deeply to Native American culture, tai chi, and the New York Mets.

In his absence I learned that, for me, grief is a state of being. It is a relentless physical presence, like a jacket I can't take off. When it mellows it alternatively casts a shadow and shines a light on everything I do. He is an undertow, a soundtrack.

I know you're there, Robbie.

First Blog = Flog?

Assuming you know me, you call me Ellen or Elena or Jules. Or Melvis. If you don't, feel free to call me anything you like. I am a writer by day so of course I came home tonight to...write.

A few things that will become painfully obvious:
  • I love bullet points

  • I overuse elipses and colons (not my own, mind you, and not the currency of El Salvador. Just the gramatical kind)

  • Although I are a writer, grammer and I are not well acquainted. (And I hope there's spellcheck on this thing)

  • I will often write in baaaad Spanglish

Thanks to Heidi for suggesting that I blog. Here is her blog - it's funny and fabulous and gorgeous: I have known Heidi since day care - many, many moons ago. I have known her since that picture up there was taken.

First tidbit: I rescued a dog using cheese doodles on Sunday and today there was a "news" story about a woman who saw Jesus on the cross on a Cheeto. The audacity of hope? Nah, the audacity of artifical orange coloring.