Category: Not America

There is life and it exists, outside America. Duh.

“Well, at Least She Wasn’t Fat”

Two things inspired me to write this post about fatness today: 1. Seeing myself in a too-small bathing suit the other day (it really was too small… I almost couldn’t get BACK out of it). I’m not fat, but wearing the wrong clothing will make any flawed human weep. 2. Reading Patti at “Still Breathing”‘s…

On Making a Difference

We went to Africa. We wanted to make a difference. My wife and I spent five years in the noisy, crazy city of Nairobi, Kenya. My day job made a difference, but our “side” stuff was what really made an impact. Steve (name changed because of how small the world is now) was a gate…

To Be a Storyteller

The #reverb10 final prompt from Molly O’Neill asked “What is your core story?” Being a huge fan of The Moth, and Eddie Izzard, and loving to hear people rattle off stories about their hilarious trip here and there —  and being a writer naturally — I am perplexed and in awe of storytellers. I can…

Depending

I’m on the train on the way to meet two old friends in New York. A part of me is terrified to put my foot on the platform at Grand Central. I am a traveller. I don’t stay put. I go places. Yet in the last 8 years I’ve mostly been with my travel companion,…

Brought to You by the Letter Z’

#reverb10 is asking: Prompt: New name. Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why? My answer would be easy: ZED. “Zed” is the nickname my in-laws gave me when they met me. It differentiated me from…

On Not Walking

Walking is joy. I love walking like I love Ira Glass and peanut butter cups. I am surprised that since I moved back to America from London, that I have given it up. Just basically decided that even though it is one of my favorite things to do in the world, I am not even…

I-OH!-Weigh: Please Fly On Over

Moral: Don’t Write Drunk. Day 8, #reverb 10: The Beauty of Different (Thanks, Karen Walrond.) I live on the East Coast, in the glowing gutters of the GOLD COAST. I am not from here, however, and that makes me “different.” That’s right. I’m not from these parts. I’ve traveled and lived all over, but moving…

A Long Way Up

This story starts with yoga, but it is really about being gone. Because, let’s face it, we all have the desire to be gone now and then. Sometimes more than we want to be here. Here’s the story: So I go to yoga and I am in some inversion: sun salutation, moving through upward dog…

On Awkward Days…

… And Processed Cheese I have this group of women friends that I, well, sort of worship. I knew them from college. We all worked together on the daily newspaper. It only recently occured to me that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t actually friends with them. Maybe it was that friend-ish-ness, where you later see…

Everybody’s got a darkness…

The fog and the mugginess this morning reminds me of London. Previously posted on Jan 16, 2006 Everybody’s got a darkness They’re not going to show it to you. It’s Monday and grey again in London. I dreamed of you last night. I sat in a cafe over cappuccinos with some friend. He told me…

Lullaby for a Head Injury

Mr. Blue, you did it right But soon comes Mr. Night, creepin’ over Now his hand is on your shoulder Never mind, I’ll remember you this… I’ll remember you this way… — Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra After the sound of the skull cracking, and after the soft sound of my flesh finding…

When Nude Isn’t Naked

A Guest Post by Contributor Lisa Hill, American expatriate living in Switzerland. I walk through the room, topless, anticipating… He waits for me there, ready. I climb onto the table and my doctor begins the examination. Nudity. Nakedness. Not always the seductive, titillating state we Americans have infused it with. Sometimes, it’s just being without…

You Have to Be Taught

A  Guest Post by Contributor Ellen Hardy, written 9 years ago this week. “Careful the things you say, children will listen…” – Stephen Sondheim from Into the Woods At this terrible and troubling time in our nation’s history, a great fear of mine is that through our anger we will become like our enemy. Our…

Venice and Other Temporary Places

The copy of John Berendt’s “The City of Fallen Angels” that Heather gave me is water-logged. It looks as though it made it here by water taxi. The book, which I am halfway through, wanders through this old city, meeting real Venetians and asking them: “How do you feel about Venice?” It’s a series of…

Singapore Sweethearts

Here’s a brief version of the story of how I met Tim and Peter… I’m thinking about them today. I was working at the Warrington Hotel in London, which isn’t a hotel, but an epic pub in Maida Vale. Now owned by Gordon Ramsay. It was autumn of 2004, and we’d only just arrived in…