Don’t be afraid to be confused. Try to remain permanently confused. Anything is possible. Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen.
George Saunders

Monday, October 20, 2014

as seen by me

I work in a fairly elderly building--think sub-basements and alcoves and an elevator with a counterbalance and brass fittings. Today I waited outside a conference room as the previous meeting ran long, staring through pebbled glass at whoever was inside. The occupants emerged, flailing and flushed (faculty for sure) but I didn't mind: the view was so cool!
My story "Free Ride" was accepted for publication next year (!) so I went online to withdraw it from the other places I'd sent it. Boy looking at Submittable is an exercise in humility. For the 2 stories I've had accepted via the online submission tool over the past few years, I've received 70 rejections. A 1:35 ratio basically.
Good to remember.
Good to be grateful for the yes's and the constructive no's.

Saturday, October 18, 2014


Hey y'all I'll be reading at Babeland next week as part of Seattle's Lit Crawl. More info here and here.
Thanks to Jane Hodges and Your Impossible Voice for the opportunity. Come hang out! It will be a funtastic night.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014


Some pictures from around town. The top one is a little graffiti picture scratched into the Plexiglas on the bus. The second is the view from a friend's sunroof on a stormy afternoon.
Where have I been? Already launched into October and I dunno what's what. I'll carve out time later in the week. That's what it is lately. Carving out time, as though it were obtuse and resistant and needs the attention of a knife.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

fresh pop corn

These cool kids have a new video out today.
Peep it! The storyline is corny but the beats are oh so worth it.
My pals and I keep thinking Ayron is going to blow up big. Soon. Soon enough. In the meantime, AJ and the Way are one of Seattle's best kept secrets (their album release at Neumo's with Sir Mix-a-lot might be one of my favorite shows ever). 

Sunday, September 28, 2014

le weekend scene

I have been experimenting with online guided meditation this past week and yesterday I attempted one related to lovingkindness. Which turned out to be difficult and painful. I was joking around at my volunteer job with one of the staff, and he said he didn't have a heart, just a heart shaped block of ice in his chest. Don't even talk to me about walls, I said, and saw recognition in his face. The  weekend though has been quite pleasant after a particularly tough week--hang-out time, pizza and art with my favorite 12-year-old; a sunny afternoon at a friend's house sipping rose and girl-talking; then a clothes and accessories swap hosted by a neighborhood pal, in an artsy loft retreat in the middle of downtown.
The top picture is a design by Hammy, images cut out of a magazine and pasted into my drawing book. The other one is the sky last night at the 255 bus stop in Kirkland.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

and around here we call it

I was talking to a trusted confidant recently about being spanked as a kid. I don't mean the occasional swat. I mean on the reg punishment, skirt hiked up, panties pulled down, full-on hit on the bottom with a ping pong paddle, a belt, a wooden spoon, a hand--hit and hit and hit until my father or mother deemed the penalty was sufficient. I wasn't allowed to cry, either, to "beller," as my father put it. Afterward, whoever had dealt the beating would read me bible verses and tell me they loved me, and then I'd cry. I felt so humiliated and ashamed and angry.
Spanking has been the topic du jour in the media the past few days, with a football player in trouble for beating his four-year-old kid (article on WaPo). That led me to bell hooks on Justice: Childhood Love Lessons.
And to this: why you should never.
Even the New Yorker weighed in.
So what about me, now? I don't know what it all means, exactly.
Except as my confidant put it, around here we call that abuse.