Tag Archives: nostalgia

‘The heart lies somewhere I can’t reach’

Hey! It’s almost the end of April. It has 30 days. I rarely go back to my old posts or reblog them but this week is special, because it marks the anniversary we moved back to the States after nine … Continue reading

Posted in travel | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Fireflies trapped in a jar, the days, prose

Some of the days flew by so fast, others you could trap in a jar. They were on the internet or in your computer on a spinning carousel, going back as far as you could right up to the present. … Continue reading

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

The Larry Dugan complex

There were probably a dozen boys packed into that air-conditioned room at Kyle Gardo’s house in the early ’80s, the first time I saw porn, a lot of hair onscreen and squishing sounds, all of us rapt and speechless; it … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 25 Comments

“One more red nightmare”

Donnie said he forwarded my email to Fripp and would let me know if he heard back. I sent that to Loren, because I wasn’t sure I’d ever get an email like that again, that said “I forwarded your message … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, music | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Monday stop light meditation at the five-way

The kids were small enough then they didn’t have the wherewithal to complain or object, they just got in the car with the dog, the three of them in the back and me driving, Dawn saying isn’t this nice, and … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , | 12 Comments

The darkening afternoon sky

The sound of my kids upstairs in the morning singing, getting ready for school, the same nonsensical sound as birds in spring, makes you wonder why they really sing, if it’s to sooth themselves. I get to fix them toast … Continue reading

Posted in musings, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Life lessons from dreaming dogs

The dog in her sleep quivered, you would have thought she was dead she looked so still – some replayed scene imagined to make her believe she was somewhere else, living.

Posted in death, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments