Sometimes, not matter how tired I am, I cannot make myself go to bed. I will do any number of meaningless, unnecessary tasks to avoid it- stare at myself in the mirror, walk back and forth, straightening things in my obsessively tidy apartment, look at blogs on my phone that have not been updated in … Continue reading how to know what is important
Sometimes shit sucks
light bulbs, chihuahuas, and writing about myself
My new apartment is two square rooms, a yellow kitchen counter, and the hum of the fridge. It is the click-click of the baseboard heaters and the cold blue light of the stark-white walls. I have not hung artwork yet. I just moved yesterday from a one-room cottage with a woodstove to this land of … Continue reading light bulbs, chihuahuas, and writing about myself
everything
I sleep with the windows open and it’s cold now, as wintry as Portland will get. In the mornings I come up as if from the bottom of a deep hot pit and the cold air bites the tip of my nose where it sticks out from my ten hundred blankets and my sleeping bag, … Continue reading everything
rain
Last night, in my van, after work, the rain wouldn’t stop falling. Flooding! Endless! Dark and dampening rain! And the rear doors on my van don’t seal properly, it was in an accident, the water drips down on my collection of books- What We Leave Behind, Mrs. Dalloway, Shadows on the Koyukuk. I sat watching … Continue reading rain
Protected: The Marble.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
My child army vs. all the soggy vomit cartons of the world
It's eleven at night and the sun is just setting. Some nameless forest bird is chirping, and the newly born insects are batting at the window-screen. It was seventy-five degrees today, like instant summer, no time for foreplay when you've only got twelve frost-free weeks. I wanted to do so many things when I got … Continue reading My child army vs. all the soggy vomit cartons of the world
Anchorage
In Anchorage, it’s really spring. All the snow is gone, and the air smells like dirt. And the sea, too, although I cannot see it, beyond these dead potted plants and ratty driveway, ground down by winter’s ice-age of weather. I can smell the sea, though, and hear the seagulls. I know it’s close to … Continue reading Anchorage
I’m eating two thousand bowls of ice-cream
And bingeing on electricity. It’s hard, it’s so hard, hard, hard, in the land of TVinterernetIceCreamChocolate, to be a good person, in those hours when I get home from work, and read about making birch-baskets, and work on my dance moves, and write stories about important, dry and unglamorous things that move at the speed … Continue reading I’m eating two thousand bowls of ice-cream
Going private
Friends! Strangers! Passers-by! Now and then I choose to password-protect a post of mine, for whatever reason. If you would like the password to these posts, please leave a comment on this post- it will ask you for your email, and then I will have it, and I will email you the password. And I … Continue reading Going private
counting
I took the insulation out of the sauna, ripped it out in big yellow strips, fiberglass sodden with squirrel pee. A rain of stuff came tumbling down around me like wood shavings from the chainsaws, but it was only all the world’s pinecone sepals. There were shelf fungus too, squirrel size, pulled from the birches … Continue reading counting
CARROT QUINN 
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