a christmas tantrum
A woman quietly breaks down amid the off-gassing plastics lining the shelves of her local Target store. It’s Christmas.
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drain snakes
I worked fear through my brain like a third base coach gnawing on a wad of Big League Chew. Under the pressure of mental mastication, it shifted shape and took on a thousand new forms that evaded rationalization and neutralization.
answering the call
Deep within you there is a tiny space that contains the infinite universe. Most people won’t tell you this because if you knew, you’d stop going to work and instead spend your whole day roller blading or skeet-shooting or whatever it is that makes that space light up like a disco.
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Peggy
But if I wanted to know her, it would mean building a mosaic out of the smashed pieces of our collective memories.
remote work and finding a home within
The impromptu flight, the dog sitter, Airbnb, and adventure money had stacked up, and rent was coming due. Suddenly, my place felt like a beautiful, beige prison. I couldn’t afford to pay rent and travel. I chose to travel.
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COVID-22
There is no wrong way to panic. The world is not black and white, all of us can be right. The fear expression is simply coming from where we fear loss the most, and getting in touch with that reconnects us to ourselves and, if we let it, humanity.
plucked
Birds chirped high in the trees, more scattered from her feeders as she shut the door behind her. The feeders were getting low. She needed to buy birdseed, but was it worth the risk? Was there actually any risk? Whatever. It’s annoying out there, she thought, picturing that crying baby’s wet and anguished face. The world couldn’t stay gross forever. The birds could wait.
rewilding (yurt story)
I drank my coffee on the porch, listening to birdsong and smelling whiffs of ocean mist that spilled over the mountains. As far as I could tell, the spider was keeping her promise.
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from topanga canyon
My recent nomadic tendencies are motivated by a search for a place that feels like home that I problematically don’t believe exists. When people ask me that fundamental question about where I’m from, hoping for a quick and relatable answer, I sigh and shake my head and try to gauge how long they might be
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tribute to fall
I curse the season for being the only season that confronts us so directly with its impermanence. But fall is no shorter than summer or winter. I’m no physicist, but I am confident that time doesn’t move more quickly in October than it does in May.