Instagram tells me that Glennon is visiting Alaska with Abby and her two kids. And Oprah.
You sift through one called “Future” and find a thousand other eyes shaped and colored like Miranda’s.
What did you do to pass the time? She said, checking her watch. Digital. Big. A thick gold cuff around her wrist that made her bones look even smaller.
The ‘next great American novel’ is likely one without distinguishable grid lines. It is the voice of a refugee fleeing terror or an illegal immigrant fighting poverty. It has no real roots except where one is running from. It is a story for the road.
Sometimes I forget that I’m creative, that I came here, in a sea of traveling light that can illuminate even my darkest ideas. “What’s wrong with me?” is the mantra that has created elaborate worry. Illnesses in my head, potential threats and warlocks, taking over the healthy parts of my body. Making them dead. Dizzy… Continue reading tonight, i forget. tonight, i remember.
“I can’t sleep in this fevered dream.” It always starts with a “Yesterday” or a “Last week” or some marker in time, as if closeness or distance matters to what’s right, versus what’s right now. As it goes, yesterday, I received a surprise Reiki session, gifted by my neighbor and former client, Arthur. He wrote… Continue reading Writing and Editing at the same time, in one brain