Category Archives: identity

Letters and passageways (5): trial runs

Posted on September 15, 2019 by

This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. You wear it on your body, and you don’t even know what it means? Allanah grated potatoes onto … Continue reading →

Posted in writing, identity, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Your so dumb Ginger

Posted on July 25, 2019 by

Trapped inside a black pyramid in Las Vegas for four days, moving through the underground tunnels like mice between hotels, casinos, the convention center. Returning to summertime rain in Seattle and falling asleep to it, the sound of static, of … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

How the house felt after the kids left for summer camp

Posted on July 3, 2019 by

Outside it was warm and the lupine stalks were bending down, some on their faces like mollusks gumming the ground but not making it very far, frozen mid-suck. The dog smelled bad, a telltale bad like she’d rubbed herself in … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Hero’s pose

Posted on June 23, 2019 by

We waited and waited but it didn’t seem like the marine layer would ever burn off. Lily had a date with a boy we hadn’t met named Colin, and I texted her to come outside so we could talk. And … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The long descent through the quarry

Posted on June 21, 2019 by

I got down on my hands and knees in the shower with a toothbrush and some baking soda paste. The web site said if the drain had a musty smell that was mold, but if it was more like a … Continue reading →

Posted in Humor, identity, Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Stopping to pay the toll on the road to self

Posted on June 4, 2019 by

At times there seemed to be so much beauty I couldn’t convey it, and at other times it evaded me for weeks or for months, for what seemed like forever. I sensed a link between my seeing the beauty and … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Moss petting in Portland

Posted on May 26, 2019 by

I went back to Portland, and it was the same as it always was. We got behind the quadriplegic at the neighborhood wine take out and the clerk put her bottles on the back of her buggy in a basket … Continue reading →

Posted in humor, identity, Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments