I feel capable of more. Or maybe I want more. I feel a little stuck. Or maybe lost is the word I’m looking for.
Warning: despite the title, disjointed thinking ahead.
For days (perhaps weeks), I’ve been riding one of my favorite hobby-horses:
I feel capable of more. Or maybe I want more. I feel a little stuck. Or maybe lost is the word I’m looking for.
Warning: despite the title, disjointed thinking ahead.
For days (perhaps weeks), I’ve been riding one of my favorite hobby-horses:
On a sun-drenched Saturday, I went to a bbq at a lovely home in Oakland Hills. The back deck had two levels. The bottom level was big enough for three or four dining tables of various sizes and was surrounded by tall redwoods. From the upper level, the view looked westward over parts of Oakland,…
Interviewer: What would you consider to be your greatest weakness?
Interviewee: I think my greatest weakness is honesty.
Interviewer: Hmmm…. you know, I don’t really think of honesty as a weakness.
Interviewee: I don’t give a shit what you think.
Sometimes, maybe often, I’m not very good at putting my best foot forward.
It wasn’t that he liked being miserable.
He simply had grown used to wearing
a certain face, become comfortable
with his assortment of shrugs and sighs.
“His Music” – Stephen Dunn
It’s been a mixed few days…
“Just because I love it, doesn’t mean it’s going to work.” This was the reminder I wrote for myself one Saturday as I walked around a beer fest on a gorgeous sunlit day. The expansive lawn where the festival took place had a sweeping view of the Bay. Everyone seemed happy. Sunshine, beautiful views, live…
I’m bad at flirting. Or maybe I’m good at it, I honestly don’t know. At best, my approach seems to be one in which I try to be funny for my own sake and if the other person likes what I said or wrote, cool. The funny section of my dating profile is the response…
The body widens, and people are welcomed
into it, many at a time. This must be
what happens when we learn to be generous
when we’re not in love, or otherwise charmed.
-Stephen Dunn, “The Snowmass Cycle”
Late last night, just before bed, I nearly broke my brain. The tweet from the poet Rasha Abdulhadi read, “Right now, in this moment, you can’t fake where your heart is. Pay attention to that.” Based on other tweets, I believe Abdulhadi was talking about where one’s heart is in relation to current global politics,…
Despite the profile saying “Still after the dream of long term monogamy” she said she recently broke up with the love of her life and their sex is better than it’s ever been. This was towards the end of our video chat. A chat which she ended in almost business-like fashion by saying something along…
Sometimes, at night, before I go to bed, I’ll feel a sense of restless can-do determination towards how I’ll attack the new day (or this old but new life). This usually happens when I’m scrolling through Twitter where I’m reading poems, and reading about writing and magazine acceptances and submissions. This usually happens when I’ve…
Valentine’s Day – that saccharine mid-February reminder to take one day out of the year to splurge on chocolates, a card, some roses, and a candle-lit dinner… Ever since the second grade when that pony-tailed witch with dimples, Jenny Butterworth, gave a Valentine’s Day card to Scott Truesdale and not me (Garfield making lusty googly…
On Sunday, I talked with family and friends (mom and dad and a friend from State College). The common theme across all three conversations was that while it’s only been a few months and I still need to find a job, I love it out here. At times, I’ve wanted to analyze the sensation. I’ve…