Philip Bram

I sort of got briefly interviewed yesterday at work by a lady who remembered me from my modeling days, who used to hire me for some of my best, easiest fit work, and who's now the editor of one of those worthless parenting magazines nobody reads: "So you were living in the city, and then you and your wife moved up here when you got pregnant with your first child." "Yeah. But Sarah Bram had a broken leg too. She got run over by a car just before our wedding." "God. That's terrible! Poor thing." "Oh, it was fine. It made the wedding, her hobbling down the isle on crutches. We lived in a 5th floor apartment with stairs inside. There was just no way to do it. I kept getting flashes in my mind of her burning up in flames because she couldn't get out, my little unborn child boiling to death in her belly." "JESUS!… Um, okay, so you used to commute into the city but now you just work here. How do you like it? I mean, do you miss the city, the traveling?" "I don't know. I don't care what I do anymore or where I live as long as I'm able to write and make art." "So you're able to do all of that now from here?" "Fuck no, not at all. I can't do anything. I'm completely fucked. I have a new studio over in Newburgh and I've only been there twice in the past couple of months. I have commissions that I haven't been able to pull off. All I've got time to do is go on Facebook and make a total ass of myself and get in trouble. It's like death by a thousand cuts." "What's that?" "That's how the Chinese used to torture and kill people. They would tie you up to a stake and slice off little pieces of you over time." "Ewe… So your wife and kids are up in Canada right now. You must miss 'em." "Of course I do." "You think you guys will have any more?" "Absolutely not! No one should be bringing children into this world anymore. I will never forgive myself for having my two boys. What a terrible thing to do to somebody." "You really believe that?" "Absolutely. It's a pathetic, selfish act, having kids. But, you know, then I guess, what the hell else are you going to do? I just don't know how anyone does anything anymore. Like you work for this magazine about parenting… I mean, what's the point? I know everyone needs to make a living but… I don't know. I love my kids dearly, I love them TOO much! It's crippling. And that's what I mean. They're too good for this world, for what we've done to this world. All children are. And then what happens to them? They just become us, these flickering souls, staggering around through the fog of this horrible, horrible world we've created. It's atrocious… Hey, do you want another glass of wine? It's on me?"