|
 I start a load of laundry, take the boy to school, pour a cup of coffee, put the dogs out, answer email. I fold a load of laundry, make some phone calls, drink another cup of coffee, sit at my desk and write a few listless words that won’t go where I want them . . . → Read More: Behind My Eyes  For context, you might want to read this first. You know what sucks about being sad? Besides the sadness, I mean. It’s the all-consumingness of the thing. (Spell checker doesn’t care much for the word consumingness, to which I say get over yourself, spell checker! I have bigger problems than you!) No, what really . . . → Read More: Withouting Let’s just call grief what it really is: a wily, slimy, and brutally persistent motherfucker. Grief is like moths that thump against the lampshade until I am almost mad with their noise, except these moths are 40 pounds apiece and they are slamming against the inside of my skull. It’s a weight in my . . . → Read More: Cry Me a River  |
    |
||||
|
Powered by WordPress & the Atahualpa Theme by BytesForAll. Discuss on our WP Forum |
||||||
