I don’t usually watch serious movies (some people might say that I don’t usually watch good movies, but those people are rude) because I have a hard time with them. I cry a lot, I get confused (a confession reader, please don’t be an asshole). The confusion stems from the fact that I have a hard time watching closely, because half my brain is always somewhere else, thinking about productivity, thinking about the book I should be reading or the email I should be responding to.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the most comfortable-productive outfit for working from home. Look. I can’t always think about war and overcoming grief and how I’m screwing my kids up, okay? Sometimes I have to decide what to wear, knowing that I’m not going out anywhere but it’s not decent to totally give up…
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Oh boy, I’m writing a bunch of poems at once which is really disconcerting, and also really satisfying–well not satisfying, but kind of exciting. Like there are all these ideas that pop up as I’m walking around or drinking coffee or talking to someone about something unrelated (and just now I stopped typing this…
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A very beautiful, very dear friend of mine asked me to read a poem at her wedding–a poem of my own. She is an enormously special person to me. We have been present for one another in times of excruciating grief and joy. She is someone who I believe, having known her since she was…
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We spent the weekend doing the things we like to do: playing cards, cooking big meals while dancing around, pranking one another, visiting the turtles, acting dumb at the grocery store, turning on one in changing alliances of two. It was our last weekend together at home before my older son leaves and it’s been…
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My older son is off to college sooner than planned. He got an internship and is leaving early next month. It is a wonderful opportunity, I am so glad he got it. It is a terrible thing and I wish it weren’t happening. Both. I have been sighing with relief and weeping at the same…
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My sons don’t know a world without 9/11. There will soon be adults who have only existed in a post-9/11 world. What a hard place they’ve arrived in. In an interview (read it, she’s so lovely and it shines and shines in this interview) for a series with the Library of Congress, Aracelis Girmay says, I am amazed…
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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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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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