The house where I spent most of my childhood didn’t have central air. I slept with my windows open and a loud box fan pointed toward my bed.
Most nights, I heard music in the fan. It sounded like a distant, ethereal orchestra. Sometimes, a dinner party.
Read MoreI’m moving slowly and gently into this new year, and healing from the inside out.
Read MoreOne day I was walking along Seventh Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and stopped frozen in my tracks when I saw a sign on a telephone pole. The sign was advertising a group called Brooklyn Writers. In the days before Facebook events or Myspace, telephone pole flyers were a means of community communication. This is how we knew where bands were going to be playing or who had something for sale. The flyers had little rip off strips with phone numbers so you could call and find out about the thing.
Read MoreTracy and I are cleaning out our basement.
I was going through a box and found a whole bunch of stuff from graduate school - my course evaluations, class reading lists, student and faculty rosters, and stacks of my own writing.
Holding this heavy pile of paper in my hands, I truly understood how much time had passed. They were like historical documents.
Read MoreI’ve always thought there was more to reality than what we are taught, and while it’s possible that my imagination has created experiences for me, led me to believe that what I wish to be true is true. It’s also possible that what we know of this world is just one tiny tip of the vastness that actually exists.
I’ve spent a lot of time in my life exploring this sort of thing.
It’s just where my thoughts go.
It’s the terrain I like to walk.
Read MoreI’m writing a book on Patreon. I’d love for you to join me.
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