Tag Archives: writing and identity

Following false leads down the side streets to identity

Though it would hit 85 in Seattle (the last time for a year) I was sickly, pale and soft, an analogy to a piece of fruit that’s gone bad from the insides. I got off the phone with KLM to … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

Do enough drugs and the trees will talk back

I don’t know why I have to drink beer when I brown beef but I just do. Maybe so I’m doing something other than drinking. I went back to my notes from Friday morning on Cougar Mountain with the dog, … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

The fear to really be | what scares us most, about art

It had been many months since I went around the corner from our house to the new development. Why would I?—turning left instead of right, I could go down to the lake. Turning right, and right again, they’d taken out … Continue reading

Posted in writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments