All you need is love. Doo doo doo doo doo. Love is all you need.
(and make it an action word) 2018 was pretty rough right? I’m not down for resolutions… and even though a Burning Bowl ceremony sounds pretty cool, that’s not my bag either. For 2019, I feel like there’s only one answer and it’s this: commit to every day, wild, active, radical LOVE. What is Radical Love?…
If it so happens that Tom Stroik is in Kansas City (which he may not be), then I have on my list to hunt him down and — at the very least– have lunch with him, if not whiskey and ribs. Yeah, teachers change our lives. We all remember that one “Dead Poets’ Society” prof…
If I left somewhat suddenly (after 11 years) or you were surprised, then I think maybe you weren’t paying attention. Every time I think I’m home, something changes my mind. Maybe it’s the porch or its the lack of the porch. Maybe it’s the wide open spaces, or the bats and the trees. There were…
Who is Sally thinking about today? Her daughters. Her friends. Faith. Her mom. Dan, of course. On any given Friday, Sally jumps to the beat of love. Sally moves to move you, drives to inspire you. A Monday morning dawns and she Breaks out of the blocks, running down The day’s, the week’s, the season’s…
In the face of the senseless Las Vegas shooting, how do we get through a day like today? I felt frozen most of the day, the horror buttressed by the president’s hypocritical and milquetoast response. How do I get through a day in which the acid undercurrent of anger and instability that has been pouring…
Let’s keep the Earth clean. Do you love the Earth? I do. PEOPLE! Don’t litter. — day 22, by Tati
I experienced mizzle, again, tonight. This time, without you. Our first mizzle draped the English town of Dover at night. Friends’ laughs echoed in our wake. A mizzle clouded all the air space, As we strolled under repeating Streetlights from B&B to seafood joint. We arrived damp, the standard condition of Englishness. Our second mizzle–…
Love is a fingerprint Shared between Exactly two people– Nothing repeats. No coda, no lookalike No twin affair possible– Replicated or paraphrased– Later in life. My heart knows the Vinegar taste of you. I distinguish your laugh Among the rubble– One I discern only between Lines and across Miles and beyond uncounted graves. I am…
Leonard Nimoy’s rumored penthouse in Vancouver Was easy to spot– a pin oak tree growing Atop the 19th floor at English Bay. Think about the inches nearest To you. What’s in your line of Vision? Mine: Target bags of plastic eggs A rubbery Fitbit, Telling me to move. Wood. The mantle carved, The Pictures framed, the copies…
You started not to like me. At first you thought: It’s not him. It’s me. It’s the Chemo, the kids, the stress, my weight. Drugs ended. Hair grew back. Boobs rebuilt. Life leveled as Kids reached an easy age And yet you Couldn’t shake feeling that I’d Turned on you. One time I toured then Didn’t come home.…
Across the Gulf from La Casa Azul, this Monday Late morning I am thinking of you, Frida. My sister’s just called and We Facetimed, her lying flat on her Back on her bed, phone in midair Me slurping lukewarm coffee in my Second cousin-in-law’s second home and the chatter Echoes off textured walls until we…
Dali broke with the Surrealist movement Cuz they didn’t like that he got famous. Jealous bitches be like “yo Sal, Babe, ain’t no way to make, like, Art and also Cash.” So he and Gala bought A boat and she ditched her Husband and they made out for France to Hide and read and Butter…
It’s true I have trouble with you, With everyday compassion, Because It means forgiving the person Who drops poop bags to the ground– Listening between sarcastic comments for Pain and fatigue. Everyday compassion the Off-gassed namesake of Life. I’ll have to be More than OK with rigid people– Got to See myself in them, to Assume…
Today is the birthday of my former roommate and college friend. I have no delusions that she will read this post, and anyway, it isn’t about her. It’s about the experience I had with her, and what it taught me about myself. “Trisha” and I were roommates when I lived in Kansas City. I had…
Ten years ago I lived on Delaware Road in London. Colin had gotten himself half-addicted to internet poker (mostly because he understood the algorithms) and I, in an attempt to connect with him in on his online poker island, suggested writing a couple’s poker blog. It was adorable… called “Poker Sweet Home: Married to the Flop”. It…
