Writing one of my students turned in It is another season of goodbye. I packed up my car, gave the sink a final scrub, and headed west through the cornfields. I've wrote about goodbyes a lot on this blog, so here we go again. There is never enough time to see everyone, to visit all …
triage
Sunrise before the commute. It's because of mercury, one of my coworkers tells me in the staff room. It's in retrograde? Something like that. I saw it on social media. That's why the kids are acting like this. Full moon's tomorrow, a different coworker says a week later. Another teacher shakes her head. I don't …
the other side
Everything you know about Aspen is true. Everything and more. Calling it a small Colorado ski town is like calling a humvee a car---you're not wrong, but you're not really right either. Aspen is a town wedged into a northward-slicing valley, mountains cradling it like arms. Everything about it is pristine, from the level sidewalks, …
to disappear
"Do you need to call someone? Let them know where you are and what happened?" The guy in the driver's seat asks. The darkness is nearly finished settling and the snowy peaks in the distance are quickly disappearing. A truck drives by every 10 minutes or so, but the road is fairly empty."No, I'm good," …
be your own 3AM
sk8r boi in a hospital vibes “I am not physically tired, just filled with a deep, vague, undefined sense of spiritual distress, as if I had a deep wound running inside me and it had to be stanched.” –Thomas Merton It's all about language these days. Still. Even with the lilacs in bloom and the …
it is spring, i guess
April is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixingMemory and desire, stirringDull roots with spring rain.--- T. S. Eliot What do you want to be when you grow up? It is ninth period on a Friday, and I am the only teacher in a classroom full of seventh graders. The question catches …
an autobiography of writing
“Maybe it’s the gap, the feeling that someone isn’t listening, doesn’t get it, has half heard us, that compels us to write and explain. That’s why we turn around and speak to our past, as if others can hear us now, as if we can finally hear ourselves and catch our fleeting lives.” ---Natalie Goldberg …
to be held
The inexpressible may be contained (inexpressibly!) in the expressed, but the older I get, the more fearful I become of this nothingness, this waxing lyrical about those I love the most. Maggie Nelson, The Argonauts The body doesn’t lie. But when we bring language to the body, isn’t it always already an act of fiction?Lidia …
failure to thrive
It is gray when you wake up. It is always gray. This is something you only recently noticed, and now you can't unsee it. It is gray gray gray and then sharply turns black and then you wake up and it is wet cotton gray again. You have little sense of time in the grayness. …
songs i’ve listened to on repeat an ungodly amount: an incomplete list
If you've spent time with me, you know that I love music. If you've spent a questionable amount of time with me, you know that I love listening to the same song over and over. I'll find a song, instantly adore it, and then play it on repeat so many times that it generally isolates …
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People in Parks 