Tag Archives: journal writing

The long descent through the quarry

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 , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Broken clouds

Charlotte starts therapy today at the same time as Lily, which means by late afternoon the three of us will each be talking to different counselors in separate rooms, with Dawn waiting in the lobby with her book. It’s afternoon … Continue reading

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

Song for late March, sung from a dog

There was no way we could all live forever. My dog knew that by the way she looked at me when she folded back into a crease on the couch and smacked her lips; that was it right there, the … Continue reading

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

Frost circus, Portland

Peeling potatoes I took off my finger tip and imagined a piece of it there among the red bliss skins in the sink, something small and pink you’d find on a beach. But it got me out of cooking, and … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

The sandtrap

There was not much new to the new year now, it seemed. Driving across the state, I ate a bag of wasabi-flavored smoked almonds in about 30 minutes, taking it by the handful, popping them one by one, wiping the … Continue reading

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Sunday’s flattened head

On the five-hour drive to Brad’s cabin I kept it cool in the car to stay awake, to keep my cold tolerance up. Driving across the state to the east, how it all flattens to farmlands and big skies, windmills, … Continue reading

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

The day I turned purple (2019)

After 10 days without drinking, the swelling in my lower gut finally went down. A balloon losing air. On Monday I was offered a new job, and on Friday I turned in my laptop and said goodbye. The January bugs … Continue reading

Posted in identity, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , | 28 Comments