Remembering
drunkeness is nothing but voluntary madness
Growing up, I knew alcohol was a problem in our household. My father abused it, my mother despised it. Drunk, he would scream and shout, and sometimes abuse. My mother would retaliate, by pouring out bottles and cans. I grew up knowing the sound of clinking bottles, and the pop of a can being opened. [...]
school daze
I call them the Thursday brats; the kids in the Spanish class that I assist teach on Thursdays. Not all of them are brats, necessarily. Some are still sweet and innocent, and coo at the baby that I wear on my hip as I pass out papers and assignments. A few are so hormonally charged, [...]
© 2008 Andria and Co.. 
