writing

Meet The Eye

There’s always more to life than meets the eye. Sorcerers, artists, the criminally insane: they all see the hidden meaning in daily life. You can open yourself to the world’s mysteries or drift through it like a ghost, with no… Read More ›

Just Right

When I was living alone and first writing, I used a Smith Corona manual typewriter I bought on Capitol Hill. If I got stuck, or didn’t like what I was writing, I pulled the sheet out of the roller and… Read More ›

Cave

I bought a collection by Rilke at Darvill’s bookstore on Orcas Island, hoping it would free me from a year without writing. The store is small, warm, and jam-packed with books. A chime goes off when the door opens, and… Read More ›

Prism

The neighbor kid is still working on our leaves, two weeks later. The timer on the Christmas tree lights doesn’t work, so they’re on all night or not at all. The hot tub isn’t hot enough and I’m bad about… Read More ›

Paper Blog

I have shoeboxes full of notepads in my closet. The notepads date back to the early 90s and contain excerpts from my past. Some people journal to work through stuff; I do it because I want to be reminded of… Read More ›

Acceptance

This was supposed to be fun, about the enjoyment of writing. It’s not, when you think about it too much.  Yesterday I got to do Yoga for the first time in a couple weeks. She had us do Tree pose… Read More ›

Token

The blog is a token dropped in a deep well. The days spin around themselves, wobble, and fall. Life is you figuring it out publicly, sometimes getting it right.