Good gracious, blog is bodacious.

Schnozz-GrandfatherlyLove-11.29.07

I remember back in my day, when I participated in NaBloPoMo. I approached it the way young people in those days approached everything: with gusto and a can-do attitude. There was none of this “I have nothing to say” or “I’m not going to make it” … especially not by day three, for the love of Pete. There was none of this namby-pamby whining over having to cough up a few sentences and push a Post button. Back then, you were grateful just to have a blog to come home to after a hard day of working on the farm. And by “working on the farm” I mean playing Playstation, but it was the Playstation2, which these days is the video-game equivalent of being Amish, or at least churning your own butter.

Schnozz, www.schnozzfest.com

Merry Mélange

It was here, while waiting for my brother, that I started this story, although, of course, at the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. But I knew a story had begun, perhaps long ago near the sound of water. And I sensed that ahead I would meet something that would never erode so there would be a sharp turn, deep circles, a deposit, and quietness.

-from A River Runs Through It → Read more...

Back Diving

I posted a picture of him for a silly Instagram-related game and found him waiting for me in my dreams, something which occurs so rarely it still explodes solidly-constructed dams inside me each time I see his face, mustached and smiling at mine just the way he always did, just the way I always remember him. As usual he didn’t say much, not anything I could hear or remember, but he was there and I knew it, and when I → Read more...

Hiking Into Green Valleys

I have words washed out to sea. Words ushered quietly from my lips to my fingertips, waiting patiently for the right tide, for the moon to bring my stories alive.

I have words being reviewed, words accepted and words rejected, and I’m clinging to my favorite lines, fighting for them, and it feels strange and new and exhilaratingly infuriating, this tug-of-war of wills and how the slightest bit of caving can make me feel like I’m flirting with abandoning the sanctity → Read more...

Rivers And Roads

[Alternately titled: Story, The Second: The Girl Who Moved To Washington State]

It began simply. A direct message on Twitter first, followed by texts; those texts, in turn, begat plans. With those plans came anxiety and apprehension – I didn’t know you, not your face or your voice or anything else, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to – but also something exciting, a strange and unexpected hope hovering quietly on the horizon. And then we met, conversed and laughed → Read more...

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