Category Archives: bravery

Working On It

The few years I have had the privilege to write this blog have been full of the kind of change that any astrologer worth their salt could expect from a person turning 27, then 28, then 29, then 30, then 31.

It has been a time of tremendous change for me, all kinds of uncomfortable transitions and such. Read the rest of this entry

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The Pointer Sister

Making coffee, watching a thin stream of light from the belly button in the yurt reflect off of the stained French press.
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Chalk

We were on Bainbridge Island visiting the extended family of my sweetheart. We got there after dark, let ourselves in and found a frozen lasagna and a Murder She Wrote marathon.

In the morning the sun rose over a panorama of Seattle and far off mountains that seem covered in more snow then I have seen in several years.

I looked around the room we woke up in and Read the rest of this entry

Chip Away

He is a collector, finder, gatherer, noticer.

Bright red, hard working, a little bit of spittle always in the corner

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My Front Porch 21

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On my front porch the dishes… Read the rest of this entry

My Front Porch 8

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On my front porch kids… Read the rest of this entry

My Front Porch 3

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On my front porch are… Read the rest of this entry

My Front Porch 2

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On my front porch older… Read the rest of this entry

My Front Porch

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On my front porch ground… Read the rest of this entry

Wascawee Wabbits

I live in a yard, in a lovely shed with a sliding glass door and one perfect window. It was insulated by a friend who lived there before me. She had fabric hanging from the ceiling because she hadn’t perfected drywall when she did the ceiling and she said looking at it reminded her of constant failure. That sort of thing doesn’t bother me the same way, so their is no fabric hanging from my ceiling. Read the rest of this entry

The Day After I Turned 25

 

 

I wrote this on the evening of March 20th four years ago when I got off work at Quality Burrito in downtown Olympia. It’s rare because a line in it tells me what day it was written and almost none of my writing is dated. When I find the few notebooks that have survived, they could be from anytime and often they were from many. I would write a few pages in a book then leave it in an attic or basement or tent, travel around several states and then, if I happened to come across it again, pick it up and repeat. Read the rest of this entry

BFF

1992

 

Her name was Leslie. We were catholic schoolgirls. We hung out every moment we could. We stood by each other when we wore reindeer sweaters in the church choir. We stood in line together before for her first and my only confession. Read the rest of this entry

I Still See

I have lived inside for more than five years. In rooms that are four walls or at least some kind of four wall concept, most with doors that shut. These rooms are in houses with bathrooms that have big ole water wasting flush toilets where I do the vast majority of my business. There are ceilings on these houses that keep out rain for the most part. There are mattresses in my rooms, now there is even a bedframe, a head and a footboard. There are rooms with stoves and working refrigerators and when we say we are out of food we are not counting the pantry full of the food bank cans we prefer the least. Read the rest of this entry

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