It just so happens that I'm lying. I have a good relationship with lying--it is always there. Lying in wait, lying on the schoolbus, lying in the vestibule. Most places you are, you can lie. I lie about my parents, actually I don't. I never speak of them because they are alive. When people are alive you mustn't speak of them. Ears will burst into flame on the sides of the head. Charred cartilege has a smell not unlike burnt plastic. If you've ever melted tupperware on the stove, well then, you have some idea of what I'm talking about. Lying is also crucial. It can make every difference. And it can make those differences disappear. If you want to be post-anything it is really the only way to go. To lie is mostly to omit. When you add, that's fiction, or fabrication--it's productive. A lie is an in-depth investment in denial, which has negative properties, is good for losing weight or a friendship. I have noticed how difficult it can be to get rid of friendships, how some linger well past their expiration dates, attached to the inner arm by gristle-y strands. And some just go poof. Lying is a way to control the outcome of acquaintanceship. I have also farted, had children, and drank too much. I have also been cheerful, overshared, and been emotionally available. Lying is the most stable horse in my stable. I ride lying through Fairmount Park on pleasant Sundays with my lover before we climb down to have sex in the grass. Where faeries lie until smooshed.