• warmest wishes

    Deck the halls with nightmare fuel, the Texas Mari Lwyd is coming for you.

  • Snow days, Holledays

    We put new tires on the Fit and tricked the dogs into thinking we were going to the park.

  • decembering

    Into a false winter where the sun still feels a balmy 69 then sets when it damn please.

  • christmas came!

    I launched my first tree, found last summer curbside-sad while on an alley jog through East Isles.

  • hear hear the new year, sharp and brave

    Anna took this picture at dive-bar karaoke. We sang “Pump Up the Jam,” it is the longest song ever, and EMF’s “Unbelievable,” which we mangled. It was stellar, a night to remember, I can do things that are stupid but still scare me. Christmas happened, draining, driving all over groundstorming North Dakota, thinking about Thailand

  • sparkler lady

    Chain-lighting sparklers while Mom held back the toddlers, I burned only one boy.

  • whos laughing now

    A selection of Chinese-made American fireworks. My favorite is Baby Boomers, with the sad, frustrated adults.

  • for a limited time only

    The University of Victoria has a Ring Road and I have determined this to be a damned shame, consistently warping my sense of direction and claiming the distinction of long-standing university political contention. Why aren’t we on the inside of The Ring? like academics don’t have enough things to bitch about. The best green buildings,

  • the idiots

    Victoria finally got the guts, the ambition, the fire in its belly eating up the oxygen from the wind in its sails to scorch its fair citizens with 84 degrees, no breeze, brazen.

  • 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.

  • will, way, check.

    If you’re reading this, I’m a genius, or dogged enough to figure out how to make it happen—ftp from the university in secrecy as though anyone would care, really, though surreptitious down- and uploading is undoubtedly frowned upon. I’ve been working at a library at the U of M since the beginning of September to

  • sungod prayers

    Days have been long—the nights, rather, excruciatingly lightless, while time drops like a depth charge out of my control. I’d’ve been all over this forever night nonsense were I, say, fourteen and goth. Unfortunately (?) I’m adult and postmodern (postpunk, postrave, postyouth, postal) and prime to succumb to seasonal affective disorder. Thank god (ahem—a mangered