This is not content.
On the struggle with the existential meaning of writingOne of the toughest parts about being a writer/artist is doing the work. The nitty-gritty everyday work. The reason isn’t writer’s block or lack of time. There’s always time — everyday — for me to sit down and write. The reason — for me, and I am…
Before you can stand up for truth you have know if you can stand it at all.Let’s talk about an unscientific study I have been conducting all of my life. It has to do with truth-telling, and how much people really can’t stand the truth. By some fault or miracle of genetics and nurturing, I…
We are all, always running away. I think at some point we have to accept that some people are not meant to stay still. They are always running away. But then again, who doesn’t? Why don’t we do it more? Just like we have to accept that some people don’t want children. Some people play…
(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?…
The extremely useful writing website Writer’s HQ recently called for pitches related to the theme of “Resistance” and writing. For me, the idea of resistance and protest is highly emotional. I’ve been known to get “worked up” on a topic or two in my day! Any person who stands ready to challenge the status quo…
In the course of driving to Ontario for Christmas, we encountered a lake effect snow squall. Neither Colin nor I are strangers to snowstorms of any size or might. We are both veteran snow drivers. However, this was our first encounter with a true, pop-up blizzard. Along Interstate 81, we were warned “Lake Effect Snow…
I take the dog out at night, on the nights Colin doesn’t. If you own an animal, that’s it. You have to take care of them. Forever. Same with kids. They don’t go away. They are always going to need to eat, walk, pee, be stroked. Every night. All the nights. Until they or you…
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…
Can I change the world? That is the question I want to put to myself and to other writers in my re-boot of THE BIG QUESTION series at Letters from a Small State this month. Why this question? Because it leads to so many questions! Is the American experience rapidly becoming a series of knee-jerk…
It’s a perfectly lovely, breezy day, and I’m walking my daughter to school and taking the dog for a stroll. Conversation surrounds whether the dog minds being on a leash and “Dogs have feelings too mom!” I’m feeling general anxiety I haven’t felt in weeks, frustration that ebbs over the general state of the world…
Because spring masquerades with us Because friends continue to report I can’t breathe Because although my heart drags Daffodils design to have their way. Because spring upholds its wretched promise to us Because friends scrabble to apologize If I’d only known Because passing sorrow remembers my shape Regardless of my shrinking wardrobe. Fill up the holes, the advice calls. Plug up all the places the…
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…
