Tag Archives: existentialism

Love songs, prose, for the Pacific coast

Posted on May 24, 2017 by

How the clouds hung on the horizon off the water and made two lines, I thought they were grinding their teeth. All the mountains ground down from the pressure of the sky pushing on them and the earth, where they … Continue reading →

Posted in prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“In the midst of life we are in debt, et cetera”

Posted on May 18, 2017 by

Wednesday, that day time slows every week, with Lily on a late-start for school, the possibility we could all sleep in until 7:30 but never do, a day I work from home with Charlotte on early release, meaning she gets … Continue reading →

Posted in death, Memoir, musings, prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

‘Blood stain from a rabbit carcass on the front doorstep’

Posted on May 15, 2017 by

It took me 55 minutes to walk from my mother-in-law Beth’s back to our house after dinner. It was dusk but I didn’t get rained on, I got home before dark. There’s a part of the walk that goes up … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

First there is a mountain then there is no mountain, then there is

Posted on May 1, 2017 by

There was the outfit I’d worn the day before and probably the day before that, in a pile on the floor by the bed. I sat up and got into it like I was going in reverse, stood up, slapped … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

‘Reentry Burns,’ coming back to America

Posted on April 30, 2017 by

When I got back from Germany Dawn met me at the airport and we went for lunch at the brewhouse. The bathroom smelled the same as it always did and I think the bartender recognized me, even though we’d been … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Corpse pose, prose

Posted on March 10, 2017 by

When we came back from Germany last year I had May, June, July, August, and September off before I went back to work. And before that I had a year not working, starting just before Christmas. How fast the clouds … Continue reading →

Posted in death, musings, prose | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

‘Where the shadows run from themselves’

Posted on February 24, 2017 by

I got back in the slot, the cafeteria salad bar at work, tonged some shredded carrots, spinach, diced beets…made a modest bird’s nest out of it, weighed it, scanned my card, picked a two-top by the windows and started in. … Continue reading →

Posted in musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments