COHEN, Ezra D.

[Deleted]

full name ezra dashiell cohen. date of birth 03.11.92. home town darien, connecticut.  current city new york city, new york. education graduated from parsons. occupation freelance graphic designer,  ________________________________________ AM. 6:40am. If there was a god, it'd be impossible to wake up on a Monday thinking it's a Saturday. If there was a god, the snooze button would be an unnecessary invention, 'cause there'd be no need to get up at all. If there was a god there'd be no such thing as Monday mornings, period.  But there's definitely no god. 6:45am. I feel the same way about snooze buttons as I do about girlfriends... at first they seem so good, then a little while later you realize they're just that same old alarm in disguise. It's too early for philosophising on the fairer sex. 6:47am.  Please don't think I think of women as alarm bells. 6:48am.  Seriously, I have nothing but love for women. I definitely don't think of them as inanimate objects, much less red flags. 6:48.5am.  I definitely don't. 6:49am.  I can smell fresh coffee, Rosa must be up. If my housekeeper can get up and make it over to my apartment for 6:45am from the Bronx, I can probably make it from my bed to the laptop I left on my desk. 6:55am.  I overestimated myself. Rosa's brought my coffee in and abandoned it on my bedside table, far more knowing of my shortcomings than I'm prepared to be.  7:15am.  Showering hungover is like having hot steam pumped straight into your lungs. I mean I guess it's always like that, but fuck, it's intolerable now.  Why I even showered in the first place is  a mystery - I'm working from home today. Gotta keep Rosa's opinion of me from slipping any lower, I guess.  7:38am.  Alright, let's hit the tablet. Bloomingdales are one of the worst fucking clients, so it's gonna be a day of redrafting. ________________________________________ ________________________________________ What's the first thing you do when you find out your dad has a penchant for raping and suffocating prostitutes, not necessarily in that order? What's your first port of call when a heavily armed cop is dragging him into a car, and even as you're watching, he's smirking all the way to the chair? What do you do when he's spared the death penalty? The answer to all of the above is this: you throw up, and then you shut down. That's the first time I've spoken about it since my mom made me talk to those filmmakers, back when I was fifteen and I'd had a year for it to sink in. Never again. The first thing you do after talking about it is throwing up, too. You throw up a lot when you're forced to deal with the fact your dad is a homicidal psychopath with a bodycount of anything between six and sixty. We'll never know the truth. ________________________________________ PM. 7:02pm. If I ever have to have a near two hour long conference call about font placement ever again, I'm done with this world. 7:04pm.  As if I'm ever not done with this world. Kate hasn't texted me back yet, despite my message being a) extremely witty, and b) sent and marked 'read' four hours ago. Fuck you too, Kate. 7:17pm.  My phone just went and got my hopes up by ringing, but it turns out it was just my mom. It's a mixed call, with me brightening her up with the news that I'll be back in Darien for Christmas, but breaking her spirit by refusing to do another series of Real Housewives of New York. She doesn't even live in the city. She reminds me to call my sister, but I can't face it just yet. 7:30pm.  Beer o'clock. 7:35pm.  New text from Maddie, who's obviously being harassed back onto the show. It suddenly feels more tempting to sign on for another series. But at least it gives me an excuse to invite her out tonight. Thanks Bravo! ________________________________________ Having a brother who's barely a year older than you is like having a twin, but with none of the downsides. We got our own birthdays, our mom didn't feel a need to stick us in identical outfits, and we got some breathing space being a year apart at school. But other than that, we might as well have been twins for all the time we spent together. We'd always go exploring in the woods near our house, we'd pick on Poppy, we'd come up with elaborate cover stories and back each other up when our parents thought they had us cornered... he was my best friend, no doubt about it. But we've never been that similar. I've always been prone to overthinking things, where Holden's just charged ahead. He's always been the only person who could get me out of my own head and into the moment. But I'm more of a pragmatist, and I've nudged him in the right direction when he's been all over the place. It's a cliche, but we did balance each other out. At least until the news broke. I think finding out about our dad threw our differences into stark relief - instead of being ying and yang, it was oil and water. It just didn't mix. Hold's an idealist and I admire that about him, but I can't be like that. He thinks I'm a fantasist and maybe he's right, but fuck, it's not like I'm working myself up about exams or falling out with my girlfriend... finding out that our dad's a-- so-- that he--... that he did the things he did, that's too much. I can't cope with the enormity of it and I'm the first to admit that. Mom's the same, and whilst she can talk about it a hell of a lot more readily than I can, I respect that that's her coping mechanism. Holden can't handle the discrepancy between our reactions and his own, and yeah, it sucks that it's cost us our closeness, but that's just the way it is. I can't see either of us changing. ________________________________________ your name lex. play-by doug. member group resident.