How much longer do I need to learn that everything is temporary.
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the red brings out my eyes
I wanted to be part of the horde, not part of the part that moves in for the money shot and suspends the disbelief.
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minneapolis mer
I’m pretty sure they’re mine. I know they’re mine.
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passing the timing
Mid-May my laptop’s A/C adapter expires and I can’t seem to replace it locally for under $150 say what? yeah, and I get sick of looking—the Mom and Pop shrugging and the superslick Big Box Boys shoving into my hands product I can’t afford then blocking the rack so I can’t put it back while…
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i bought a mango
Short termed or not or what, I moved here. It’s time to live here.
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building a desert
I have to remind myself to remember, take pictures. Slow down.
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new happy year
When I first moved to Vancouver, I had a three-month sublet, a bedroom filled with meanings not my own. Everything is temporary, knew that already, eating off a stranger’s plates and sleeping in a stranger’s bed. I looked forward to a different living situation to have a space of my own, with my own things,…
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fight this
Trekking all over Seattle finds me a tofu corn dog and Chipotle I couldn’t pass up, poetry on the streets sold on scraps and rapped from corners.
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snow day
It’s been raining every day for a month. Saturday afternoon, it started to snow. I forgot the cold, forgave the cloaks on still green leaves, the waxy tropic ovals without a Midwest chance. The home-from-campus bus that normally drags out sighs, claws patience, twists my spine into a hateful slump waste of time delivers a…
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i am the trespassenger and i ride and i ride, and yes, roll the window down this cool night air is curious.
I’ve been here a month and some. It seems about that long. So. Have I made loads of awesome new friends? Not really. Have I found the sickest clubs with the phattest beats? No. Did I dance in a park with a bunch of hippies, step over hypodermics, dodge the homeless, fight the post office,…
Narratives
Longer posts of creative nonfiction.
