i am bored, so i’m going to pick a literary fight with my college self

What follows is something I found lurking in my Documents folder. (I’m so bored, guys.) It was saved on August 8, 2010, and is entitled, “A Foreward That May Never Be Read.” JOKE’S ON YOU, ASSHOLE, I’M READING IT, AND I’M PUTTING IT ON THE INTERNET. Here we go: Who the heck writes a memoirContinue reading “i am bored, so i’m going to pick a literary fight with my college self”

of limits and imaginary lines

Uncle Walt again, dear friends: From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. I inhaleContinue reading “of limits and imaginary lines”

okay, but for real this time

This isn’t good for me anymore. I am writing myself raw lately, because I am afraid that you will forget about me. (This has always been my biggest fear.) I am double checking my WordPress views and my Facebook likes over and over and over again, because those little thumbs up’s and little hearts feel soContinue reading “okay, but for real this time”

but in dreams/i can hear your name, or: kind of a story about lemon cake

5 From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines (Guys, fuck: is this my book?! In which a pretentious cream puff works their way through Whitman’s collected works? Fuck. … Would you buy it?) Alright. Let’s do this again: Fuck, guys. This needs to be it for a while. I needContinue reading “but in dreams/i can hear your name, or: kind of a story about lemon cake”

(i think this is a) prologue

Not as much has changed as you had hoped, I think. But, on the other hand… hasn’t everything? I found myself short of breath (still) on the bus tonight. The #4, which I have barely taken and which also already feels like routine. This house, this blue room, these pink flannel unicorn sheets… I haveContinue reading “(i think this is a) prologue”

the suggestion of flannel, or: snapshot of a maybe-lesbian

Today a woman in a bow tie touched me on the arm as she walked past me, and I was thrilled, because I wondered, “Oh, snap. Does she know?” And thought secondarily: “WHAT A FUCKING RELIEF.” Here is the evidence. Myself, me, February 2, 2020: An inventory. (Sorry in advance, Shakespeare.) Item: One head ofContinue reading “the suggestion of flannel, or: snapshot of a maybe-lesbian”

if you want to sing out, sing out, and so i shall (i must)

Sitting here at the bar, reading Walt Whitman, alone. Am I cool yet? (No. No, I am not. To be clear: I am sitting at a booth, and I am drinking lemonade. It is sweet and cold, and I clutch at it with my too-long creature-fingers.) Tomorrow I finish packing up the literal bits ofContinue reading “if you want to sing out, sing out, and so i shall (i must)”

co-existing in a narrative, or how do you write nonfiction w/o being an asshole?

Personal essays are my favorite kind of writing. When I was first introduced to the work of Chuck Klosterman at the Governor’s Honors Program in 2006, my mind was blown wide open. I didn’t know that you could write about things that really happened to you. I didn’t know that you were allowed to mineContinue reading “co-existing in a narrative, or how do you write nonfiction w/o being an asshole?”