Perhaps I am a person who loves the seasons because they help me know that time is truly passing.
Category Archives: California
It’s not a tomb in a solid or permanent way, not a grave. This is the gilded foyer to another world.
“How does she have enough vacation days for this?”
But when a place is hardly (if ever) depicted, a place can be stereotyped into invisibility.
Those on the Mexican side of the border sing the request while those on the U.S. side respond with rejection, a miniature drama of national proceedings.
I don’t know if you knew about the fear that permeated Toronto’s gay scene for years.
I mean the real world, the one that roots and flowers and rots and hunts and shivers and casts its eyes to the moon and howls and sinks into dirt and blushes into color.
We drove home and argued. Why was I so angry? About something so small? It’s not about that; it’s about the fact that I feel useless and nothing seems to be going the way it was supposed to go.
There is something about watching people pick out spaghetti sauce, and knowing they will cook and eat a meal together, leave dirty dishes in a sink together, that makes me ache.
Last fall, my much-delayed Megabus dropped me off in Chinatown at 2:30 a.m. I had seven percent battery life, four dollars in cash, and no idea how to get to Brooklyn.