If I threw a rock down the gullet of this deep, lonely blog, would it hit at the bottom? Would it splash into some river run-off of old melancholy or all has that all dried up? Lodge itself into the thick damp remnants of fear. Or would that flung rock just hit the dry, cracked … More Echo echo echo echo….
Over tacos and burgers, I told my friend I would do better. I’m always trying to do better. But in the face of this election season, a voice buried by years was triggered to jab, punch, react. This voice of mine has been stunted for awhile. I know the reasons why. I’m learning. I’m riding a … More Conservative Values Will Make Our Country Great Again
Two years ago today, a bunch of us stood in a window-lined waiting room far above November-dirty, Seattle streets. Rain smashed the glass. It was cold and she was dying. That was all most of us knew. We had woken up that morning regular people. That evening, we practiced in our minds how to stand up … More What Two Years Does
Embarrassed. Selfish. Fake. Disgusted. Afraid. Indignant. Lonely. Ashamed. These are the emotions of success. These are the first feelings that sweep through my crab-trap of a mind and then land squarely in my gut anytime I do something that everyone else perceives as good or right, interesting or special. This is what success feels like … More My Own F#*king Trampoline
Sometimes nostalgia is overrated. Sometimes it hands a person a messy gift of sadness, feelings that had once been wrapped up tight and put away far back in the memory bank. Not long ago, our modern social Machiavelli Facebook decided nostalgia is good for all of us. We are now given reminders of a life … More Entering Dangerous Territory
I forgot the frog. Left him in my purse instead of slipping him into my front jeans pocket, as I’d planned. He had been sitting on my desk at work, next to three beautiful, hand-formed clay stones imprinted with the words “Just breathe.” The frog is as big as my thumb tip and made of … More A Frog in My Pocket
Letters of My Body Dear Feet. Please stop for a moment – please stop jiggling worriedly or pushing shyly beneath the blanket on the couch. I’ve written a poem for you in Morse code. There, dotted along your tops where the sun tenders that thin skin. I’ve dotted the tops of your big toes – … More Letters of My Body