“It’s really too bad people only live for less-than-or-equal-to a century. We should be more like the earth. Geology not biology. Think about the awe-inspiring things we would become if only we could get a millennium or eighty under our belts. The Grand Canyon was once a sad, wet, little groove in some otherwise uneventful dirt. All these breaks in us, all these fissures and cracks and seams would grow and change and blend and become. Our imperfections could strike some future person dumb with their beauty, inventing art right there in his virgin heart.
Instead, we have our tax-shrunk C-note of a life to live and then we’re done. Barely leaves time to learn how to speak, let alone say anything worthwhile. Fucking Universe.”
— Roy Coughlin
Muffy Bolding is a mother/writer/actor/knitter/feminist/withered debutante who likes the smell of asparagus pee, and remains obsessed with the bathroom hygiene of her three children -- despite the fact that they are 23, 19, and 16. She is blissfully married to a cute Jewish boy who looks like Willie Wonka, but remains tragically in love with the dead poet, Ted Hughes. She has the mouth of a Teamster, and her patron saint is Rocco (pestilence relief.) Ms. Bolding lives in Southern California, where she enjoys typing words, making movies, and plucking the rings from the fingers of the dead. She was the co-creator and Editor-in-Chief of the award winning satire zine, Fresno Lampoon, and in between writing screenplays, carnival barking, and savagely threatening her trio of darling larvae with a wooden spoon, she currently publishes the zine, "Withered Debutante." More of her work can also be found in the anthology, "Mamaphonic: Balancing Motherhood and Other Creative Acts", the compilation zine, "Mamaphiles III: Coming Home", as well as in The Cortland Review and hipmama.com. She is currently writing and producing for film and television, and working on a book of essays entitled, "Inside A Chinese Dragon." She has slept around, but not nearly as much as she would have liked.
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Brilliance: “C-note of a life.” Coughlin captured the notion that our lives last as long as a note in a song. Let’s live large!
I took the C-note to be a hundred dollar bill. Multiple meanings? Or maybe I’m just not musical?
Mommy/Theorist, I love that sentiment, but I think in this case c-note refers to a $100 bill (hence the tax reference)