—WHEN YOU’RE CONFUSED LIKEME, JUST DANCE
…It’s interesting how much the important people in your life dictate what you do, what you think, or even feel.
And that’s just a curious, random thought, not a judgement whatsoever.
…We have to laugh or we’d never stop crying. Right?
…“It’s a sign of times.”
…(I wrote a lot after that, but then, like a skittish coward, even to myself, I deleted it.)
…Maybe I just need friends more than other people do.
…“Of course, beauty in and of itself has never been enough.” Jim Moore
…I guess the question is, Do you really want an answer, or just some line so that we can both go back to what we were doing before you asked?
…In any story or poem I read, the word death always gets most of my attention.
…How is ¾’s of a cup of cereal a serving? Are they talking about feeding ants?
…Those marbles in the jar? I think about them a lot. Maybe too much.
…Why do I like orange so much? I guess it’s a bright spot when I see it.
…I did see three tiny deer half-prancing across the road the other day. They could not have been cuter.
…I haven’t ever clicked on a bra advertisement in my life, yet I get them all the time. Explain that one.
…“I’m not sure I get it all”—I’m getting used to that.
…Sometimes it doesn’t feel the same until you feel it for yourself.
…I could tell you I don’t care, but that would be a lie.
…When you’ve got something that other people don’t, what do you do with it?
…It’s a sad day when you stop rooting for your country.
…I hate him so much.
…Sometimes the best thing you can do is hang up before they answer.
…When someone writes, “Just thinking about you,” that’s a gift you should pay attention to, and cherish.
…You can fake a lot of things—orgasms and such—but you can’t fake joy.
…It’s funny the things that scare me now. Or maybe it’s not so funny.
…Even though I fake it most times, I’m never going to be what people want me to be.
…It’s a bit of torture, but I have an Esquire article saved on my computer about The Falling Man and I often click on it by accident—that photo of him, flying or falling upside down through the sky beside the south tower, like it’s an ordinary act to do so. Like it’s just a day, same as any other.
...I just realized I get PJ Harvey and Parker Posey mixed up. My son does that with Snow Patrol and Cold Play. I’m pretty sure no one’s ever mixed me up with anyone. Well, maybe Gumby.
…If you poked around my office, you’d see a lot of silly-looking tchotchkes placed here and there. But they’re all there for a reason. Each one means something.
…I wish I sounded as hopeful to myself as I do when writing to some of my friends.
…Sooner or later we’ll all be gone.
…Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have had a real conversation with my mother. Like, What are you so afraid of? What are the things you truly love? Have you ever thought of getting help for yourself? What really happened?
…“Show, don’t tell.” That’s a flashing sign I have in my head, and have had implanted there for a long spell. But sometimes, you have to break that rule. Sometimes the best course is to tell, and tell again.
…“Why do people have to be so horrible to people?” That was someone’s post on social media. And isn’t that a great question?
…It always seems easier when you’re not the one doing it.
…It’s pretty easy to tell who your friends really are. (Do I say that a lot, because it seems like I do?)
…You can tell me I’m special all you want, but I’ll never believe you.
…The cover never tells the real story.
…Yeah, I’m talking to you.
...What last weekend taught me is I need to stop being so coy and just spell it out, no matter how pedestrian. No one’s going to spend time parsing your meaning when your last name is mine.
…Some mornings it’s just me and the morning, nothing else. And I like it that way.
…It’s interesting how, if you name something, it automatically becomes more special. For instance, Cashmere sounds good, but Mongolian Cashmere sounds a lot better, richer and more exclusive. What about Snohomish Cashmere? Yeah, maybe no. Maybe not so much. Forget what I said earlier.
…“Everything is make-believe, even the believable stuff.” Jonathan Cardew
…Loneliness is never lonely for company.
…Sometimes I even forget to ask myself whether or not I’m happy.
…“If only we could grasp it, how rare it is to be a life at all.” Jim Moore
…Waiting for a message can be excruciating, but then, you have to stop and remind myself how lucky you are to be waiting at all.
…When someone texts you, “How are things?” you’re supposed to say, “Things are good. How about you?” yet isn’t that just a bunch of superficial shit?
Someone asked me that question the other day and so I thought, I’ll just be honest, even if honest is ugly. And you know what? She really listened. And then I listened to her bad stuff. It was okay, after all. I’m glad I did it.
…Do I think alcohol made me a fool more times than not? Absolutely. There were many shameful moments I can’t take back. But there were also times it made me brave when that’s the thing I needed most.
…You know what? It’s brutal, but you rarely get s second chance, and if you’re that lucky to be one of those, then don’t you think, you should take it?
…Sometimes I have to remind myself: Let’s not be too sad about how sad we are about things.
…When nothing else works, children give me hope.
… “Range after range of mountains.
Year after year after year.
I am still in love.”—Gary Snyder
…Lately, I spend too much time trying to find out why people died. Sounds morbid because it probably is. But like, the other day I saw where this Louisiana standout wide receiver died. He’d been in a car crash previously and had killed someone, a marine, fled the scene, then turned himself in. He was awaiting sentencing but took his own life.
I’m not sure why that’s important for me to know. I guess the jolts and turns of life, or the loss of it, just fascinate me more than they should. Like this kid (he was only 24) had just turned pro and then everything changed and he couldn’t see a way forward, or felt too guilty. There are a hundred stories there.
It’s heartbreaking. But sometimes, so is life.
…It’s crazy how often I hear John saying, “Whoa, Sparky!”
We were talking at 5:30 am EST, and I didn’t get it all then, what he meant, so now I’m left trying to figure it out, thinking I have it one day, thinking I don’t the next.
Whoa, Sparky! Such a John-thing to say, to leave me searching again, and again, even after he’s been gone all this time.
…I hate it when ads start with, “You deserve….” I mean, how do they know what I deserve? How do they know I deserve anything at all?
…Take your time. Slow down. Just wait a few more minutes before you write back…Those are things I never say to myself enough.
…You know you’ve been up too early when your watch tells you to “check your rings” at 5:15 a.m.
…I accidentally read a page from “A Tale of Two Cities” the other day. Page 307, and part of 308. I thought it was one of the worst things I’ve ever read. But then I reminded myself that all art is subjective—what I might detest might well be what keeps someone else alive, and hopeful.
…What if the fraud wins and everyone stays bought in?
That’s not a rhetorical question.
…I’ve tried, but I still don’t get Haibun.
…I don’t know what it means when you send your story over and right away become scared to death.
…“Why does so much pass by us unloved?” Garth Greenwell.
…When I get a nice compliment about my writing I always wonder if it’s actually something they mean, or if they’re just being kind. In so many of the workshops I take, that’s the etiquette. I’m not criticizing. I get the reason why. But I want the bald truth. Smoke up my ass doesn’t do me much good if I’m always trying to be a better writer. The one code reply I get is when they say, “That was a good story.” Then I know the piece totally sucked.
…(Carrie Jones):
“Someone random person over on Substack was mean to one of my animal posts last night.
And I'm not posting a photo today because the animals aren't talking. Plus, people don't seem to interact with them as much anymore, so maybe their time is done?
I don't know.
On this Wednesday, I don't feel super sure about anything except there are many ways to make this world better and not all of them have to constantly include outrage--though that has a definite place and is for sure a motivating force.
Last Friday, though, I saw this Mary Oliver poem affixed to a high school English teacher's wall via a piece of scotch tape. All under the windows were books and more books. Other poems, other bits of word and hope and truths were all along the walls.
And that?
It was pretty powerful.
And pretty beautiful.”
Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
…“There are so many stories
more beautiful than answers.”
– Mary Oliver