Monthly Archives: August 2019
I’ve had people rip up my fliers, call the cops on me, and even fling dog shit at me.
In separating ourselves from our emotions, are we losing what makes us most effective?
We went to different high schools. We got jobs. Life got busy and we hung out less.
Over the past four months I’ve had the privilege of cultivating some of the world’s finest beans.
The house listed around 2:00 p.m. on Thursday, we walked through it at 3:30, and we wrote on it by 11:00 a.m. Friday. We weren’t the first offer.
I’m not scared of the gods that inhabit these places per se; I’m just wary of the humans who built them.
Moral: Take care, even when ye be in Haeyste, to not do that which woulde Waste Tyme later, for from Haeyste proceedeth only Waeyste.
Clark and Tessie came immediately to the back screen door, already vocalizing their hunger. No Lewis.
The memory of their faces in this moment is one of two life events that can make me cry on cue.
Have you ever noticed how intimate sitcoms are?
I’m writing about the extraordinary.
How many other transitions in life are like this: inevitable, beautiful, a blessing, and a pain so deep its aches reverberate through generations.
Between the Jes I think I know and that other Jes, the inexhaustible Jes, the one who slips briefly into view whenever she offers an unexpected comment, a laugh out of place, a sideways glance.
You wait to feel something, see a vision, hear a heavenly voice. But it’s quiet. The tomb is empty.
Light, after all, functions as both a particle and a wave.
what if status updates become souls.
Oh forget it, I’ll just buy everything online.
It’s a little weird that I, of all people, feel nervous being watched. Being watched is literally my job.
Alas, I know my life is difficult, even torturous.
I get why a customer might need to believe I am serious and resolute in my work and not somebody who has the Wikipedia page for Pokémon open on another browser.
I’ll forgive you for ignoring all of this if you just answer your emails.
This workshop is tuition-free, assignment-free, and pretty stress-free, but soon I’ll be back at my own school, and the cloud of duties will descend.
They must have died eventually, the ones that we didn’t scoop out.
Cognitive functions deteriorate with exhaustion; I once hallucinated midnight bicyclists and figures running through the woods after summiting Mt. Rainier.
I’m trying to lean into the messiness, letting myself engage grief in the middle ground.
Who would catch me if I broke rank and fell into new, unknown ideas? Who would listen if I loosened my mouth and spoke?
Cookies are a way of saying I can’t fix all of the hurt, or make the bad days go away.
“Con · ces · sion:
a thing that is granted, especially in response to demands;
a thing conceded.”
21. Sometimes my life seems to spark like a live wire, and I feel intoxicated by its opportunity and potential.