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73 My america notwithstanding It was the worst of times. That’s it, no follow up. no: but this or that or on the other hand or yet or still or notwithstanding. It would have been great to hear: It was the worst of times, notwithstanding something or other. We didn’t know what notwithstanding meant, but come on, it’s wonderful. We’ll save it for the name of one of our children, the nickname possibilities are manifold. We’ll name the other child Manifold. But these were the worst of times. It was a relief just to say it. Worst worst worst. This isn’t understatement, which is the name we’re saving for our daughter. There was no understatement because we were on the bottom, we had hit bottom, we had bottomed out whatever that means. We’re naming our dog Whatever so he can behave in any way at all and not come when he’s called or come when he’s called. so it was the worst of times. We were done – yet we hoped. Isn’t that funny? We hoped and we longed. especially we longed. We had longed forever; it was how we were made, but it had gotten us nowhere. It was only good to make us cry when the music was playing. We were rife with longing. Longing, which is what we’ll call the baby. We’d lived with the hope for so long it was a ghost. It was a ghost from a yesteryear we couldn’t even see with multiplier glasses. Oh my god, yesteryear. no, it was the worst of times, period. Period period period period period. Worst worst worst. We were the same people, but it was the worst of times. We pretended everything else even though there wasn’t much. We pretended all over the place that it was not the worst of times, but we kept coming home to it. It was the worst of times. It was so bad that small accidents improved things. any moment when someone spoke to you and asked something real improved things. But it didn’t happen because all we had was irony. no one said, nice going. If they said nice going, it meant the opposite or the opposite double. everyone was self aware and then aware of that. and of that. a kiss was not a kiss anymore. It was ten levels back, dried out until you could laugh at it. a kiss we’d say and laugh. sometimes we’d kiss and look around to see who was laughing. and this wasn’t real laughter; it was made out of something shiny and brittle which dissolved in natural light. It was a noise we made, one of the last, besides the sigh. There was still the sigh. It was the only signal we had that we were being crushed. We’d kiss, look around, laugh and then sigh. It was a vicious cycle; there were other cycles and we were caught in all of them. If someone said they loved us, it was a warning and affected our stomachs. Our stomachs had already been affected. It had been an entire era devoted to our stomachs. Our stomachs ruled the land; they 74 led us around and had no mercy. They didn’t care how we felt and we didn’t care about them either. We ignored them, huge stomachs which we pretended weren’t here. People said there is an elephant in the room, and oh how we wished there were an elephant in the room. It would have improved everything. First there’d be the question: how the heck did that creature get into the library? It doesn’t matter . There is no room that isn’t improved by an elephant. sit here, we’d say, and lean against him. It would be lovely, but no. They were in short supply. We longed for an elephant, the elephants of yesteryear, while we sat in the library and named our children. no act contains more hope than naming the children: notwithstanding, Manifold, Understatement, Longing and don’t forget the dog. ...

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