(Note: this was written a week and a half ago, and published late, because I'm a procrastinator.) “Shrooms are an introvert’s drug,” I said on a recent psychedelic trip with my boyfriend and his roommates, the words floating out of my mouth as I watched the colors burst on the sidewalk in a dazed fascination. … Continue reading An introvert’s drug
Next to normal
An eerie peace has fallen upon the Upper Haight, and I was able to truly observe it for the first time this morning as I went out in search of a cup of coffee. It’s my first couple of days back from sheltering-in-place at my boyfriend’s house for the past four and a half weeks … Continue reading Next to normal
Journal entry: April 7, 2020
I need to write. It's been three weeks since we began sheltering in place and since then I have learned that a writer's most powerful tool is observation. Perhaps I spend too much time observing (passive) and not enough time recording (active). I definitely don't spend enough time writing. But the world has turned upside … Continue reading Journal entry: April 7, 2020
Solving for z
"Do you think everyone has something to prove?" he asked. A question containing two indefinite nouns. Everyone — who? Something — what? Nouns forming the blurry foundations upon which the question rests. (He's always asking questions like this. Questions that don't move toward an argument derived from a few basic assumptions, but rather questions that cast doubt on those … Continue reading Solving for z
Diary entry: December 16, 2019
I am obsessed with beauty and I think this has exponentially fueled my fear of decay. I am increasingly anxious about growing old and fading into un-importance, of failing to build anything that can last. Of failing to be bigger than myself and bigger than others' perceptions of me. Of failing to leave my mark … Continue reading Diary entry: December 16, 2019
It’s going to be a long year
The past few days have really reminded me how emotional I can get about politics. For sports fans out there who not only support a certain team but have an emotional stake in that team's losses and victories; who wait with bated breath for the outcome of a game; who theorize on end about strategy … Continue reading It’s going to be a long year
Sunday leftovers
I am sitting at a coffeeshop this Sunday morning feeling utterly defeated. There is a soreness in my muscles, in my feet, which have spent a weekend holding up the weight of a limitless girl, and I am being physically crushed by the demands I've placed on my body. Right now, I am dragging my … Continue reading Sunday leftovers
‘This is Not My Happly Place’
Sticky tones offer no solace to a girl who thought she loved music. Inconvenience is the enemy of luck and so of imagined possibility, so of self. I am frustrated by eyes that sag to tell folks of my tired burdens. So I’ll glue false eyelashes to my slick skin and … Continue reading ‘This is Not My Happly Place’
Alabama, 2019
Five months far along in the full belly of May; it was a tongue-in-cheek spring, a true false spring, a spring of myth and sick jokes; they tore us out from inside of ourselves with no sense of irony, they laughed in the face of the choices we make, stealing and trading them for indignities … Continue reading Alabama, 2019
