The Little People Three little people hang out on the the edge of my bookshelves quietly reading the life history of corvids the courtship of red-tails light on yoga a book of Celtic legends and Anglo-Saxon riddles. They cross their feet in zazen, permission granted to enter the narrows, follow the ways of shelf elves. […]Read more "The Little People"
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 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)"