Madeleine Johnson is an actress, filmmaker and writer from Portland, Oregon. She attributes her appreciation for many of the best things in life—black coffee, dinner parties, roadtrips, rock music, laughing til you cry, trashy tv, pop art—to her late, great mother. Madeleine’s blog, Dear Mama, is a collection of letters written to her mother since […]Read more "Dear Mama PART 3"
How to Sleep on Christmas Eve Tonight let us sleep like children on an unmade bed. Sleep at the table with your hand beneath your head. Sleep with your face pressed against the cold glass or on the floor beneath a braided rug, hugging your tissue box, finally consoled. Sleep through the clocks. Sleep through the […]Read more "How to Sleep on Christmas Eve: A Poem"
I’m filling my Earl Grey tea cup this morning at work when the weirdest water cooler conversation bubbles up. “Let me ask you a strange question.” I smile nervously, “OK.” “You ever close your eyes and press your fingers into your eyelids?” “Yeah, fireworks light show.” “Exactly!” He flutters his eyes closed and lightly demonstrates […]Read more "On Floaters and Flashes"
The Internet has been inundated this year with the same link-baiting articles about how to tell if you’re an introvert, how to handle your introvert loved one, what introverts are really thinking, which of your favorite dead celebrities were introverts, if introversion was a One Direction song which would it be and so on and […]Read more "Tell Them You’re An Introvert"
I. She was always seeking the moment when life itself would pool around her, then expand. Sometimes it would occur within the confines of spiritual practice, serene and austere. Other times it would come upon her dead drunk in a bar with an acquaintance whose name she could hardly recall. The largeness of the moment […]Read more "This Is Scripture"
I wasn’t always sure why I instantly started feeling pangs of dread when jingle bells creep their way into television and radio commercials. When Santa’s “Ho, Ho, Hooooo,” taints the ads and infiltrates my commute, I start to get bitter beer face. I’ve had this issue for quite a few years now. Really, since I […]Read more "‘Tis The Season to be Hollow"
She clicked the garage door opener more patiently, but certainly with greater pressure, before it wished to engage. The door rattled and screamed, metal against metal, metal against wood, the damaged panels shivering with fear. It took several tries but it eventually closed. Daisy, cursing and grunting, may have intimidated it into submission, but hanging […]Read more "Daisy Picked (Part 2 of 3)"