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

Wednesday, August 27, 2014


beer n crackers for dinner

 photo 71c23a5b-928b-407b-a524-e14b90f8385d.jpg

Monday, August 25, 2014

At a party

At a party the other night, the friendliest animal present, humans included, was somebody's beagle.
I tried, and failed, to penetrate the other humans' perimeters. The turned shoulders. The averted eyes. So, fifty-six minutes after I arrived, I departed.
At a friend's dance performance a month ago, I sat in the audience with a pal, sipping Jame-o from a clandestine bottle and reminiscing about the last dance thing we'd been to (zoe | juniper @ otb). This night we laughed uproariously at an older man dancing a deux with duct tape. Later, when my friend entered the stage with his dance partner, wearing a dark pageboy wig and cute little skirt, I didn't recognize him. Only when I heard his voice did I realize: she was he. 

Sunday, August 24, 2014


Chaos, inside and out. I have nothing more to say today, because the hate is daunting
because jeezoids and fanaticks
because Ferguson
because wereallgonnadie and wedeserveit

Tuesday, August 19, 2014


Big things afoot this week.
I feel abandoned by friends. Left out, moved down the list, the usual cycle of close and not so close. So, my plans for fall change. I may not be traveling as far as I'd hoped. It's discombobulating and disappointing. Hopefully, it's temporary.
Really big things afoot with the fam. And it's hitting me how much I miss my mom.
Boy I wish she were here for this. She'd be in her element.
We are leaderless. I'm sad, yes, but I wouldn't want not to be.

Saturday, August 16, 2014


Pictures snapped mostly by my niece on a tour of campus residence halls. All I added was filters.

Saturday, August 9, 2014


 A friend told me this week that they have been communicating with "the other side." Confused, I asked who exactly they meant--Republicans? People on the East coast?
This friend had consulted a pet communicator to say some things to a beloved dog about to undergo surgery. In addition to clearing some things up with both of the household's dogs, the communicator also had some messages from relatives of friend. Deceased relatives. And, from my friend's spirit guides.
The communication was part verbal and part experience and even as my friend kept saying "I know this sounds crazy" I couldn't help but notice that their demeanor was supercharged, glowing, ecstatic almost.
My friend asked if I wanted to talk to my momash and I'll be honest, it scared the shit out of me. I didn't sleep much that night.
My friend definitely heard some things that might make life easier. I'm not sure I can say the same for myself.
Then I dreamed of momash two nights ago. In the dream, I was lying on the floor of a bedroom, sobbing, "I miss her so much." I woke up in tears.
Yesterday, news that a friend's father suffered a fatal heart attack while hiking in Arizona. Two weeks ago, a bunch of us met up for dumplings and laughs with this friend and his parents. He was an active, smart, hilarious and generous man and I can scarcely believe he is gone. My heart aches.
Last night, the much-anticipated Lady Gaga show with good friends and a new one. I wore towering gold sandals just because, and I'm hungover and my feet are killing me. It was a glorious night.
photos are reflections in the window of the Union 76 on 45th.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

that voice

I struggle with anger and resentment. Does everyone? This much? I'm not sure.
It's like realizing you'll never see yourself as others do--you'll also never know exactly how anyone else feels.
Some work situations have changed and I find myself so confused.
I find myself actively disliking a person or two.
One person I've known only a few weeks. It feels like plenty. Like we could never ever meet again and I'd feel like we'd gotten as far as we ever would. Some days I feel like if I have to hear that loud cackle just one more second I will punch out my eardrum with a dull pencil.
What I should remember is that some of my best friends are people I loathed originally.
I think my default setting is a reflexive "get the fuck away from me."(With exceptions for dogs and kids.)
When I'm fighting with my fella--and we fight, oh my god we go at it--the words I hear myself yelling sometimes are the words I am telling myself. The inner monologue, the super critical voice that says I'll never be skinny enough or nice enough or a good enough writer or friend or sister, and that everyone knows what a hypocritical fraud I am. Man, that's scary.
I know, on an intellectual level, that I can't love anyone else until I love myself.
That just feels like a whole lot of homework. And I laid off my shrink back in January.