This morning I cleaned out some emails from my gmail account. I didn’t get rid of many, at least not compared to how many are sitting in my inbox. My goal was to get to under 100 unread emails. Most of the unread ones are poems that are delivered daily. I succeeded in getting it…
Category: Dear Diary
Power Outage
Strong winds passed through and the power was out for hours. Today I have food to throw out. There’s a type of anxiety that happens when storms hit. Once the power was out, I became aware of all the things I wanted to do that required power. Sure, it’s been days/weeks since I’ve submitted poems…
National Poetry Month 2023
Today begins National Poetry Month. Each year, during the month of April, I try to set some poetry goals. Usually I try to write a certain number of poems (and fall short) or submit to a certain number of magazines. I don’t think I’ve set reading goals, which I might do this year – I…
Essay Camp: Day Whatever
I’m staring at the flashing cursor and a blank screen. For all of my talk about this process by which writing elicits more writing and practice allows words to flow more easily, I still have days where that is not the case. I’ve been trying to write something about wonder and novelty. I’m also trying…
Essay Camp: Day Two
I woke up at 4:30 this morning. I’ve gotten up between 4:00 and 4:30 the last two days. Ever since the time change, I was struggling to get up at 5:05 (when my alarm goes off) or really any time before 6:00… Then something clicked, and now I’m up at 4:00-something. It might just be…
Essay Camp
Today is day one of Essay Camp. A few months ago I began following a writer on Twitter. I don’t know much about her other than she seemed cute and was living in Paris and was writing. She has something like 10,000 followers or more. On her substack, of which I’m a free (unpaid) subscriber,…
Daily Fifty-Two: Mar. 20, 2023
The black pickup truck with the rattling muffler rumbles into a parking spot in front of the dollar store. The decal on the back window reads, “this is what white privilege got me.” Trash bags and empty water jugs fill the pickup bed. The driver’s backwards cap boasts the stars and bars.
Goats on Van Ness
On the drive home from work today I passed a hillside where a few goats were grazing. Sometimes, the goats are out, and sometimes they’re not. I like seeing the goats. When I see them, I say (in my head) hello goats. Today, shortly after I passed, I tried to imagine the goats in the…
Hefty Cropping
The other day, an old friend texted a picture of the two of us and wrote, “you used to be hefty.” I sent back a photo of Wilford Brimley and said now I’m old and hefty. Fun fact: though he looked much older, Brimley was not quite 51 years old when Cocoon was released (I’m…
The Dog, Again
Yesterday, I wrote about the dog and the walks we have. Given that we live together, it’s a topic from time to time. We take two walks a day – every day. Quite often, they’re short walks because it’s cold and windy here for five or six months of the year. Because the roads were…
The Come Down
This is the come down. The moment of crashing back to reality where Saturday night entails listening to some music and Sunday will be spent doing chores and prepping for the week ahead. After a week of urban exploring, meeting new people, eating and drinking, and sitting outside at cafés in the sun, I am…
Be Here, Now.
I’m still caught off guard by how quickly negative emotions or something approaching nervous dread can creep in, pour themselves a drink, and settle in on the couch with feet up as though they own the place. Minor setbacks in the face of major change, or small realizations that none of this is going to…