This Happiness is My Own

Tonight. We sat across the lake to live music. The sun set to rock classics. I dangled my toes over the brick wall, occasionally dipping them in cold lake water. Look! I’d exclaim. And I leaned back, prickly grass against my elbows. Rock and roll! Can you bring me a beer? He did. I finished … More This Happiness is My Own



It’s not a sleepover unless it’s 2 in the morning and our hearts are bared with the things we carry and the people we’ve wronged and moments we’ve lost or hope to lose–our resentments revealed, our angers expressed, our sadness unveiled, our gratitude spilled. A sappy sopping melting mess. I swear we were friends in … More Sleepover


I read a book this evening. Literature. Fiction. It was called Dominicana. It reminded me of Junot Diaz because of its style and themes. Cheating, romance, love and poverty. Moments of betrayal. The Dominican Republic. New York City. Poverty juxtaposed against more poverty. Relative wealth–Americana! It wasn’t until after I heard Junot Diaz speak that … More Dominicana


The cool kids glowed. I remember pulling out of the school parking lot, turning to see the light they cast onto the muddy field. The girls, the boys, so irresistibly cool. Makeup, lemonade, drugs, minds oh-so-so precocious. You smart aleck; you soon-to-be teen mom. How could we have known? Youth gripped us hard. How could you … More Middle


I often feel like the same exact person with the same exact tendencies and same exact thoughts and same exact desires and same exact confusions as I was years and years ago, just with different memories. All those experiences imploded into themselves, became wisps of recollection. When I revisit them, they’re light and intangible. It’s … More Warp

Summer Putty

Lately, time’s been this weird amorphous blob. Putty melting and shifting. Sidewalk glob. The sun doesn’t set until eight each night. I’m tricked into thinking I have more time than I do. Then, before I know it, it’s dark and eleven. So I’ve been toying with the putty of time, driving down winding roads with … More Summer Putty


in a falling cast of white you were there, blinding bright forgotten notes of a song a harmony quietly unmatched


we found a quiet hobbit nook the other day a cozy woodish book-decked space with rich spanish lattes and oil paintings abound (and I think I feel strange because I ate something strange but regardless I think that a bit of stream of consciousness will make things better) the rain is pouring pouring pouring oh! … More Droning


we left the cold blank walls white and bland stripped of photos of colors & memories that’d be left, soon enough i was littered with anxiety, apprehension —excitement, above all of not knowing the change that was to come since then, it’s been more of a yearning for continuation as i drive through the well … More Escapril


In between ceramic tiles, I empathize with Murakami’s characters (disjointed, numb). I’m reminded of how disconnected I’d once felt, as if this was myself but somehow it wasn’t. I tossed and turned, ran through storms, writhed in bed. Wondered: and so how did she, this other self, feel? Because I felt nothing. Between shallow breaths … More Disjointed

Art Hub

I don’t feel much in the summer, not as much as I do in the winter. There’s something about the onslaught of cold—the onslaught of nostalgia, the wave of emotion, of icy blustery wintry reflection. It’s barely Halloween and I’m ready for Christmas. We’ll have lights, I’ve decided. Rainbow lights. A tree, spindly and green. … More Art Hub


The city is tired, the city is alive. The city is moving; the city lies still. Stop motion. Slow motion. When the light turns green I cross anyway, counting down the milliseconds, swiveling my sight in circles. The city, from far away, sparkles and sprinkles and glitters and glows. Juxtapositions sit at every street corner. … More City


There is no fine line between loneliness and solitude, only a clunky, black-Sharpie-esque streak that delineates both. Even though there are many nights I wonder if I know how to be alone, now is one fine, humid afternoon where I seek solitude. For now, I will pretend that I am the only one here surrounded … More Reverie


SO you take it upon yourself to judge the content of someone’s heart without ever having the chance to rip open a chest to peer inside. Instead you look at the way their arms flail or their facial expression, the way they extend a hand or recoil in fear. On a bench or through a … More Heart

April 2018 | Daily Art

Here are daily art pieces from April 2018. I’m looking ahead; it’s the final stretch. I’m anticipating sunnier days ahead, dreaming of the beach, shutting my eyes, peering over the balcony of somewhere tropical. It won’t be nearly that sunny or beachy, but the thought’s getting me through the weeks. Missed deadlines. You know the … More April 2018 | Daily Art

A Fortune, A Sign

A few nights ago we got dinner at the place downstairs, beneath my spinach green carpet and mini Whirlpool fridge that hums at 4 in the morning. I did a little of my own fortune-telling. You will have two sons, both of them gingers, because it turns out you have a recessive ginger gene. Also, … More A Fortune, A Sign