Tag Archives: stream-of-consciousness

Down stellar stream

Posted on April 19, 2019 by

The rain is hypnotic like the static on the black and white TV I used to fall asleep to growing up. It was my first digital-assisted relaxation, when the programming ended and the Star-Spangled Banner played, and then it all … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Call me rapture

Posted on April 18, 2019 by

All those sweet, heady blooms of spring came back, and outside it was warm and had just rained, it felt clammy and moist, so I got a beer and a lawn chair and collapsed into both. Dawn accumulated three heads … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Happiness is easy

Posted on March 31, 2019 by

Two weeks ago, we went to brunch at the local ale house and I tried to nap before going to the airport. In a moment of clarity, Lily deleted all the data on her phone and gave it to Charlotte, … Continue reading →

Posted in writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Real time

Posted on March 28, 2019 by

Probably the most comforting thing I could do was drink in bed. When I quit drinking I wrote a list of all the things I pledged I wouldn’t do when I started drinking again and one of the top 3 … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

No breaks (from a plane)

Posted on March 23, 2019 by

There were times I felt like I had to write, I had the impulse, to save the moment. I thought I could just throw my arms out and surround it, I could throw my line in the water and bring … Continue reading →

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

Lisbeth Salander will have her reckoning

Posted on February 23, 2019 by

The upsetting quality of the music I play. The look of my hair after several days without shampoo. The sense I should be outside but don’t feel like it, the look of the snow after it finally seeps into our … Continue reading →

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Frost circus, Portland

Posted on February 20, 2019 by

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