Hello! You may have read an early draft of this story, about the Duckabush Arson of last year, from a link on a hiking website. This early draft has been posted without my permission, and actually violates my publishing agreement with Amazon, and can get me in a lot of trouble. If you're the one … Continue reading the enchanted valley and things that do not happen
mirrors, rope swings, golden yellow light.
I don’t write in summer, and I don’t know why I don’t write- it’s not like I’m doing anything better. I look at facebook in my idle moments and that makes me feel awful, and I remember how I don’t like facebook, and how I’d mostly let it go but then I got sucked in … Continue reading mirrors, rope swings, golden yellow light.
Uncle T
Uncle T shows up in the dirt yard with his battered leather bags. The girls are drying plates, stacking them on the shelf above the woodstove, and they see him out the smudgy kitchen window. Sister Estrogen is in the pantry, wiping jars of peaches. Sister Estrogen! Say the girls. There’s a strange man in … Continue reading Uncle T
what is left behind
.. I go long stretches without writing. I remember how small I am, how much there already is. I go to Powell’s and see all the lonely books, seemingly without value, crowding the high wooden shelves. The bookstore almost begs you. Please, read our books. And even then, the creative industrial complex is astoundingly inefficient- … Continue reading what is left behind
Hermitism, youth, and the goddess of decomposition.
It is springtime, I have springtime insomnia. I become furiously excited and then, it rains, and I wilt, and my excitement turns to cold fear, and I lay in bed and pick apart my brain, wondering what I am doing wrong and how I can fix it. This afternoon, while standing over the sink in … Continue reading Hermitism, youth, and the goddess of decomposition.
out of the fire into the fire
Spring is a tempest and daffodils are obscene, who went under the hood of the world and changed everything. Yellow sun, you cruel trickster, my life was fine until you came back. Now, in retrospect, everything was lacking. Why does the world have this power over me/why do I live in this rainy place. I … Continue reading out of the fire into the fire
spreeeeeng!
Portland winter is the challenge, portland summer is the reward. I forget how much the sun fucking means to me. It's so weird, to take something for granted like that, to not even know how much you miss it, to have it siphoned away in increments so that you don't even know what it is … Continue reading spreeeeeng!
I’ve made a zine!
Life has been so busy- I moved into a trailer, failed chemistry, and now, in this short spring break with its unending downpours, I have made a zine. As per your poll responses, I have made the zine thirty percent sex/romance/transition (secret things I feel too shy to blog about) and seventy percent parts of … Continue reading I’ve made a zine!
A poll for my readers! I am going to make a zine for you, what should I include in it?
Dear readers! Thank you for reading my blog. Reading words on the internet is tolerable and often convenient, but imagine a zine, a real printed thing you can hold in your hands! That you can take in your bag to read in the park, in these springtime sunbeams! I want to make one this week- … Continue reading A poll for my readers! I am going to make a zine for you, what should I include in it?
sandcastles
We had sex in the afternoon and then fell asleep, me pressed against you, you snoring, your body like a furnace. I marveled that your skin could feel so hot, that it wasn’t obvious when your clothes were on. I drifted off thinking about sunbeams and dandelions. When we woke, daylight savings time had made … Continue reading sandcastles
CARROT QUINN 
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