Someone asked me why I have a blog when I hate journaling, posting schedules, sticking to a theme, and maintaining anything resembling consistency. They had a valid point, I don’t sound the type, do I? Perhaps it’s because my writing is so conversational, I like feeling like I’m talking to someone other than myself, […]
My tongue tastes like blood and ash, the aftertaste of an annual bender I haven’t started yet, (though perhaps my hangover would beg to disagree). I woke up like this, smudged, sickened, & so damn sad, though in truth that’s nothing new, I’ve been sad for most of my life. The calendar says it’s been […]
I can’t help but wonder if I was a better writer when every part of my life and psyche was still an interminable mess, back in the before days when I was still living in an Ani Difranco song and a Warhol film and Cobain’s diaries.
When I was the cliche and the metaphor and the lesson not learnt….