Over the hills and far away

I want to write like a female, but  it is impossible. I don’t want to write about myself, about what nourishes me or my experiences. I want to be a character, a different voice. I paint my toenails hot pink, which was my favourite color when I was eight years old. There is a splash of it on my hand, a long drizzle right along my thumb. No one will notice this, except for Chui. She will notice it immediately. Sometimes I feel like I have two daughters because I have so much male energy. It needs to balance out. Hector also has a lot of male energy, obviously. He is a very male man. My favorite writer, Martin Amis, has said that his overarching subject is “masculinity”. I want to write about the green grey hills and the sea I can hear in the distance. But there’s no time. There are birds circling overhead, and stupid flies are plonking against the window. The baby will wake up any minute. 

Now.