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INTRODUCTIO N
ard e nB n A Jo
I am Joe’s Brainard1
I remember having three part-time clerical jobs, one of them working for a smart young woman who complained to me if there weren’t enough fake strawberries in the flavored cream cheese she liked on her bagel. Initially she felt funny asking me to get it for her every morning, but she got past it. Once when I was outside guarding her illegally parked car, I stepped inside the building and let it get a ticket, which she jokingly told me I should pay for. I said okay in a jokingly handwringing manner and suddenly we both felt uncomfortable and she closed her door. I remember the best thing about my life was my dog and then my dog died. I remember my friend who flew a Cessna offered to drop me off in Maine to visit some people who had known my dog. When I agreed, he said, “This is because you don’t care if you die, right?” On the deafening, climbing and plummeting flight, when asked to “keep an eye out for other planes” I just did it, without screaming. I remember sleeping on their foldout sofa, with two greyhounds that were as solid as porch pillars on either side of me. Morning tea and them (the people) agreeing with me that the writing thing wasn’t working out that well. Me defensively saying that giving up didn’t make sense either and them loyally agreeing with that too. All of us going to the park to eat doughnuts out of a bag and watch the greyhounds soar like fighter jets over the ground. I remember I had to leave a forwarding number on my answering machine, in case anyone needed to get hold of me about their cream
