and I mean that in all seriousness. One needs to be a little blunted, I believe, to find contentment in this three-legged mortal's life. Watching this video makes me sad, and inspired, and nostalgic for something that I didn't even realize was happening. (Thanks AM for the video) Charlie Rose- An interview with David Foster … Continue reading I am glad that I am not as smart as David Foster Wallace
eight years and for what
The hard drive in my brain is working too hard today. Trying to process all of life’s possibilities now that all of these doors have opened and I’ve finally admitted to myself that I can actually go to college if I want to. Thinking if I start now, today, if I start this one step … Continue reading eight years and for what
Dispatches from the night-time
It’s so late, and yet here I am. It’s cold in Portland, cold, cold, cold. Not Alaska cold, but cold for here, and clear, and all the stars are stuck frozen like glass slivers in the dim lid of the sky, the night sky that’s all milky and faded from light pollution and the particulates … Continue reading Dispatches from the night-time
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
challenging the ocean to a fistfight
I am applying for a fantsy-pants two year writing fellowship, the likes of which I have never applied for, and which over a thousand people apply to each year, and this is what it feels like- it feels like buying sixty dollars worth of scratch tickets, and scratching them while standing naked in front of … Continue reading challenging the ocean to a fistfight
t-bird’s shack
If there's one thing I like to take pictures of, it's the gently-lit shacks that some of my friends get to live in. Here is t-bird's. We met today in the afternoon. T-bird bought me a tamale and a tiny persimmon in the bustle of the farmer's market and then we went to her shack … Continue reading t-bird’s shack
Your eyes are like the ocean
Do they make their own light? I think they are like the sunset, backlit. I look at them and I can see tomorrow, somehow, I can see everything that could ever be. I look at them and somewhere, a man guides a skiff up a river, the wind blows, leaves scatter. It’s quiet, and restless, … Continue reading Your eyes are like the ocean
Polished! Done! So shining I can see my own face in it!
Friends and strangers! I have been working very hard here in my little wooden shack, with the rain pouring down outside, or not, and just this very moment I finally have something to show for it- a finished story! Finished as in polished, no holes anywhere, done and complete, not a single word I would … Continue reading Polished! Done! So shining I can see my own face in it!
to my anonymous donor, who I just googled
I wonder if you know, anonymous donor, what it means to me, to write these words, here in Portland, where rain lashes ceaselessly from the heavens (but I don’t mind) and then infinity splits and for a moment the yellow milk of the sun pours down, before the clouds close again and everything is the … Continue reading to my anonymous donor, who I just googled
I couldn’t have written it any better
. . reasons to survive november . .
CARROT QUINN 
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