{"id":12407,"date":"2017-08-09T22:20:07","date_gmt":"2017-08-10T05:20:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/?p=12407"},"modified":"2017-08-09T22:20:07","modified_gmt":"2017-08-10T05:20:07","slug":"move-aside-proust-the-ex-wife-speaks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/move-aside-proust-the-ex-wife-speaks\/","title":{"rendered":"Move Aside, Proust: The Ex-Wife Speaks"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Marcel-Proust.jpg?ssl=1\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12408\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Marcel-Proust.jpg?resize=416%2C700&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"the ex speaks\" width=\"416\" height=\"700\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Marcel-Proust.jpg?w=416&amp;ssl=1 416w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Marcel-Proust.jpg?resize=178%2C300&amp;ssl=1 178w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 416px) 100vw, 416px\" data-recalc-dims=\"1\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>When I&#8217;m feeling particularly miserable and powerless, I check to see if the <a href=\"https:\/\/godammit.com\/stalking-the-ex\/\">Ex-Wife<\/a> has written a new column in her neighborhood paper.\u00a0 It never makes me feel better, but I am often rewarded by my favorite tropes, like references to Shakespeare or her bikinis and mini-skirts of yore.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Of yore&#8221; is the type of expression that makes her <a href=\"https:\/\/godammit.com\/the-ex-revisited\/\">writing<\/a> such a joy. Reading the latest offering, a Proustian recollection of her childhood summers, I wonder why I can&#8217;t write like this. I mean, I had an Ice Cream truck, too. I went to summer camp, just like she did. But in my memories, I just bought the ice cream and ate it. At camp, it felt like I was being tortured by mean strangers and bees. It was a nightmare.<\/p>\n<p>Anyway, take a look for yourself.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/kathie-corner-proustian-summer.jpg?ssl=1\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12409\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/kathie-corner-proustian-summer.jpg?resize=490%2C770&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" width=\"490\" height=\"770\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/kathie-corner-proustian-summer.jpg?w=490&amp;ssl=1 490w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/kathie-corner-proustian-summer.jpg?resize=191%2C300&amp;ssl=1 191w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 490px) 100vw, 490px\" data-recalc-dims=\"1\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>No bikini or mini-skirt but at least we get crop tops and &#8220;peddel pushers.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Try thinking about your childhood for a minute, just as a mental exercise. Was it a diaphanous reverie filled with running and laughing and blue ribbons? Maybe that&#8217;s why I hate her.<\/p>\n<p>My childhood was like a black and white horror movie. I don&#8217;t enjoy dredging up memories. One memory I do like is making snail hospitals. I loved putting the snails on cotton balls, their hospital beds, in a ward made from one of my mom&#8217;s shoe-boxes. They never got better, because they weren&#8217;t sick until I started fucking with them.<\/p>\n<p>The snails probably had better childhoods than mine, and you know what? I&#8217;ll bet they were better writers than the Ex.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>When I&#8217;m feeling particularly miserable and powerless, I check to see if the Ex-Wife has written a new column in her neighborhood paper.\u00a0 It never makes me feel better, but I am often rewarded by my favorite tropes, like references &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/godammit.com\/move-aside-proust-the-ex-wife-speaks\/\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":12408,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[9,554,6],"tags":[1045,475,748],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/godammit.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/Marcel-Proust.jpg?fit=416%2C700&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7t44M-3e7","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12407"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12407"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12407\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/12408"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12407"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12407"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godammit.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12407"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}