This past week – in my dis-ease – I looked out the same window that Chris spent many a day gazing through, as his body broke down. I remembered his silence, his privacy. I converged with it a little further, as I too feared from within my body. And I too said nothing.Read More a private grief
Twitter has this beautiful imperfection and permanence to it; you cannot edit a tweet. So writing a story on Twitter – especially the way I write, compelled – is a particular kind of challenge in terms of awareness and seizing the flow.
Perhaps you have read my words of childhood listening? Me as a small ball on the floor, soft, red blanket methodically tucked around so as to secure myself from the wolf who was spinning on the record player as the horn section.Read More source
. . . . the realization when you look back is that you have moved forward, in both what you have accomplished and in how you have made mistakes.Read More in tens
Maybe having my baggage checked isn’t about putting it away, but rather opening it up to take a look-see at who it is that I am sharing . . .Read More carry on
Let’s bring death, to life.Read More Beardo’s Day
Some of us were not mean to ease through this life. Some of us are here for the reset.Read More the burning of my belly