Love . travel . write . eat
By the time Kate could remember, he’d already begun drinking gin and tonics and selling copy machines, and sometimes going out on deep sea fishing boats when business was slow. And on days when he was out of work, and her mother couldn’t take it anymore, she’d say, “Everyone out!”
I wander down a street where a gypsy woman in black sings a cante jondo, tremulous and pulsating, from a terraza draped in laundry three flights up.
I went to Sedona on a vision quest many months ago. I sat in a prayer room filled with the smoke of tobacco, juniper and sweet grass. A man moved the smoke around us with an eagle feather and I saw spring. A savage green spring so far in the future it felt like a date I will never live to see.
Listening to the hallowed thump of my father's fingers on the wood, the tiny squeak of the tuning pegs pulling tension on the strings, my two brothers and I gazed like giddy, perfect Buddhas into the hollow bodies of our parents' Martin guitars from our spot on the floor at their feet. And we watched... Continue Reading →
Eight months ago, after you left, I learned how to make soap. In fact, I uncovered the buried truth that adding any number of additives will not, after all, interfere with saponification, and that soap is actually a paradox. It takes oil to remove oil. And so eight months ago I came up with this... Continue Reading →
You are listening to Weird by Clem Snide, driving through Indianapolis. The sun keeps playing tricks on you and the landscape changes like a slow twirling kaleidoscope, reconfiguring the horizon with sparkly newness the farther west you drive. Indiana sinks behind you, back into itself- into its own drabness, and you’re glad to be rid of all... Continue Reading →
It was late August. She lay down in bed for a long while in the morning with Henry, feeling the start of the day already heavy with heat and humidity. The cicadas were singing their summer song in a woosh through the trees. It was a perfect day for the cicadas; still and warm, and laden with the quiet tick of timelessness.
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