the man i can write about

i never write about my boyfriend. he's the private type and and i think everything i feel and everything i'd write about him is far too immediate to describe online-and sometimes verbally-for his taste. he wouldn't want the general public to have open access to all that stuff, and i'm sure he doesn't want to [...]

revolution/all she wrote

as the year ends, i find myself moved by an unexpected visit from a friend earlier today. within minutes, a quick trip by to pick up an item borrowed for last night's party turned into a deep and unrelenting perusal of my latent talents and (dismal) career trajectory.my visitor was a good friend, an honest [...]

Breathe, Cry, Surf

Internet addict. Facebook junkie. Social media fool. Gmail coon. Over dinner last night, at the steakhouse where she works, my friend whispered (kind of loudly), "See that guy over there?" Nodding toward a waiter, she added, "He called me a cunt." She smirked knowingly, raised her eyebrows, and took another gulp of her martini. I [...]

my father as ghost

i tell myself to keep writing, to keep recording the feelings and thoughts and events that have come to surround me and my father's death. so much of this is surreal though. i know it and understand that the old man has gone on, that he was tired, it was *his time* and i get [...]

a beneficiary to be

my father died 17 days ago and i feel guilty for feeling normal for whole stretches of time. hours. days. whole minutes and half hours with just thoughts but no pain. what is this strange mourning? have i never grieved? why am i so puzzled, listless, dull and confused? the first 10 days, it was [...]

untitled

this morning, i woke up thinking i want to believe in something again. i want to start vibing on things, creating my reality again. i want to live in the light, and draw things into my life again. i want to do it because i need to (i'm at a crossroads) and i want to [...]

a pen

sometimes, i don't write for fear of writing down everything i know... sometimes, i just. don't. write. (valerie june) why are things so different than they used to be? before cell phones and the internet, i wrote profusely. in diaries. notebooks. journals with gold-leafed edges. on light greenish-blue or gray or black lines. on paper [...]