To My Friends Who Voted for Donald Trump
did you think this wouldn’t happen? or did you think you could vote for a man who consistently appealed to hatred, xenophobia, and fear mongering and then wash your hands of the results?
day 27: mostly I'm grateful today
I’m still trying to keep my head above the grey here in Minnesota, and there’s a lot of grey.
day 24: even when I wonder about redemption
There are days when it seems like the story of our lives, and of humanity as a whole, lives on a razor’s edge between hope and meaningless annihilation.
day 19: enough to be simply here
I don’t have to be happy every day. Some days it is enough to be simply here.
day 18: this illusion of vulnerability on internet screens
What does it mean for folks like us (who choose to write certain words about our lives on internet screens for anyone to read) that the thing withheld is often the real story?
day 17: anatomy of not writing
On the surface, things feel mundane. There’s work, a lot of work, and work is good and I’m grateful for that. There’s reading the news every day and watching that godawful election burn down in slow motion and I feel distant from that but it seems like the only public conversation left these days.
day 11: short poems and unsolicited hugs
I get all the wackiest search terms that people type into Google and wind up on my blog. Today I’m going to share a few of them. This is going to be fun.
day 10: a million ways to lose your soul online
I see a lot of folks in this industry advertising courses and tools and books and seminars with secrets that will change your life. But there’s one ad that I haven’t seen on my newsfeed yet…
day 9: and sometimes you don't
I’m tired and my eyes hurt. It’s a good sort of tired because I’ve spent all day having adventures with my kids, but tired just the same and I honestly don’t feel like writing right now. I tell you that to say this: sometimes you feel like it and sometimes you don’t. This is true…
day 8: for one perfect moment
This afternoon a child born from a spark of my own DNA fell asleep with his head on my chest, and for one perfect moment all was right in this fucked-up world.
day 7: my body afraid of love
I told her about how sometimes I can feel my ribs shrinking, how my shoulders curve inward to protect my heart and I have to consciously remind myself to breathe, breathe, breathe.
day 6: particularly in between
Anne of Green Gables once said about how happy she was to live in a world with Octobers, and I respectfully disagree.
day 5: daaaaaamn I gotta write some shit
what’s point of being holy if you’re not going to be happy while you’re at it? Also, why would god make butterflies and puppies and sunrises and nachos if (s)he didn’t care about our happiness?
