Last week began with a meeting at the US Botanical Garden (where three rare Corpse Flowers are blooming at once–go see them!!!) and ended with the unlikely occurrence of seeing people I have come to love from all these different places come together around a fire. It wasn’t a coincidence that all these people were…
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I’m running around like a ghost with a poem stuck in her throat. I’ve been waking up with fragments of really boring, everyday dreams: germinating seeds to plant, plausible emails from jerks, dreams that aren’t all that distinct from reality. Jeez. Can’t catch a break. Because I don’t want to be the sort of person who writes yoga poems,…
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One of the things I’ve done many times over these years is help people with writing an artist statement. It’s such a daunting thing. Who you are as an artist?!? When you struggle considering yourself an artist in the first place? But also don’t know how to separate that self from the rest of who you…
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Before I left for the week at a writing workshop, I spent a few days with my younger son, taking him for a sleepover at my sister’s and swimming and just being with him. I missed him terribly while I was gone, though I was glad for the time I spent writing. While there, I…
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Before I leave the magic and creative rhythm of last week behind, I want to talk about discipline. There’s no amount of luck or talent that can replace discipline in an artistic practice. And there’s nothing harder to maintain. Because no one really cares if I write or not. No one knows. I could tell…
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I don’t have a whole lot to say right now. Or rather, I do, but I don’t have much time to say it. The wi-fi is spotty (thank goodness) and I’m in Cape Cod for the week trying to write, trying to find a good rhythm for writing that I can take home so that…
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Last week I had a really beautiful time with some gorgeous people, found myself laughing on a rooftop with near strangers, got caught in a terrible traffic jam, the sort where people got out of their cars and played guitar and talked to one another on the highway (the photo above is my sons standing through…
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I had the most amazing writing group this afternoon, with 12 of the bravest, coolest, most loving and honest people. They were so scared, because the work they are doing is scary, but they went on anyway, lifting one another up, wondering aloud. Every time I think I can’t stand one more ounce of bureaucratic…
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The other day I was driving along thinking about Banh Mi. If you’ve ever had Banh Mi, you understand. I was trying to remember who I’d eaten it with last–I remembered going to a restaurant on Rockville Pike with a friend, but couldn’t remember who. I knew it was someone super fun, and the conversation was awesome…
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I had a beautiful sweet post about my beautiful sweet son, but I don’t have it in me right now. Before I read the poem below on Friday night, I said, “Every time something shitty happens in this country, I feel an outrage that seems quaint when the next thing happens.” On Sunday, the body of…
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