Tag Archives: mark kozelek

The number 4 airshaft seam to Primrose Mine

Posted on May 13, 2018 by

I woke at 4, fell back to sleep until 5, then dreamt again and got up. If dreams can be categorized the same as data (unstructured, structured, or semi-structured), then mine qualify as ‘semi-.’  I got to the trailhead early … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Cord vs. chord, “ribbed fabric, especially corduroy”

Posted on February 7, 2018 by

I texted Lily a Spotify URL for a song while they were at dance lessons: my other favorite singer Mark (Kozelek), in hopes she’d find a connection with him. For a month I drove to work with the same playlist, … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, musings | Tagged , , , , , , | 23 Comments

Trying on masks | Field notes from the Pacific Coast

Posted on July 1, 2017 by

It’s almost over! This is a series of posts I started in late May and have published daily for 35 days now. It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington coast, with side-story memoir scenes wrapped by a few … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, music | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Fugue in G Minor (“keep it like a secret”)

Posted on May 7, 2017 by

It was hard to understand my relationship with that CD. I remember the day I bought it in Portland my last visit to Loren before Germany. I knew the record but felt I should own it on CD, I only … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, music, travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

The end of nostalgia (no, not really)

Posted on September 24, 2016 by

First I need to come clean and say I’ve got one more 90s piece I’m sharing tomorrow even though I said I wouldn’t. It’s told by a musician trying to make it in Seattle pre-grunge who left for New York … Continue reading →

Posted in music, musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Reed College walk, Portland

Posted on June 21, 2016 by

Spooling around southeast Portland with my childhood friend Loren, the guys with beards pouring growlers and pints at the neighborhood bottle shop flipping records, preparing dishes with fresh oysters, grated horseradish, a bed of sea salt. Past the antique shops where … Continue reading →

Posted in musings, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Not yet remembered

Posted on April 18, 2016 by

I sometimes wear Eberhard’s Stetson to get Charlotte at school, and stand outside with the other parents waiting for her to appear in the doorway — and when she does and sees me with the hat, she turns pink and walks ahead … Continue reading →

Posted in travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments