Wearing the familiarity of home like something skintight. It’s easy to forget that soon I won’t be watching sunsets in tinted car windows anymore, that in place of lazy comfort will be sprints through quiet city streets in slush and rain and snow. June 2015


From last night’s play. Turns out it wasn’t just based on Haruki Murakami (one of my favorite authors who writes trippy dreamy stories that almost always feature some character dissociating from herself) but Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina as well. Coincidentally, I invited the friend who I’d befriended in a class on Anna Karenina exactly three years ago. … More Sleeplessness


Date Night

Anniversary. We’d gone out to a comedy show, watched two groups improv-battle it out over dinner and drinks. I remember the guac–partitioned from the salsa, of course– cheesy enchiladas, peering at his eyes, room erupting with peals of laughter, looking towards the stage to see funny girl #2 in pink toppling backwards. I felt buttery, … More Date Night


        Things I might be certain of: We’re swimming in norms no one person decided. Maybe the sky is blue. This may or may not be a dream. I like writing incoherent text posts at one in the morning. I deeply suspect that a part of me secretly enjoys–thrives on–the stress of procrastinating … More Oxymoron


time-wrapped memory hangs suspended in the grainy unchanging film of twilight, defined: a state of obscurity, of gradual decline, of soft rays / scattered light when I close my eyes I see the flitting wings of a moth, its luminous wings bleeding light

my tiredness

is dividing the number zero is a forgotten cigarette in between two slabs of sidewalk is a depressed piece of cotton in the bottom of your medicine drawer is the fog on mornings when my mother hasn’t read where the wild things are to me is a fishing boat with cracks in the fiberglass is … More my tiredness