frightfully wondrous things happen here.
Last night wasn’t the first night of un-sleep, but it was the first night I took medicine for it. Medicine that decided I needed awakeness more than it needed to do its job. I got out bed to write instead, but it was too cold, too dark. Earlier in the day, it had been too […]
Read MoreWhen I can’t quite build a thought out into something solid enough for this blog, I will often post it to Instagram with the tag #LilliputianLog. The last weeks have seen a few of those posts so I thought I’d share two here for those who aren’t on the other platform. [For those who are […]
Read MoreMy late husband believed that everyone has a superpower. That it was so easy for us to imagine the possibility of a superhuman because the universe affirmed the possibility in tiny ways. We all know someone who can accurately guess how many jelly beans are in a jar. Someone who can pour out a perfect […]
Read MoreIt’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. It’s an issue of scarcity. I have run into a shortage of words. When the phone rings now, there’s nothing but a chirping repetition in my mind. A mimicry of the noise I should be making when I am, instead, entirely composed of silence. My […]
Read MoreMy microwaved Thai food tastes like someone once heard a rumor about red curry, based on a memory within a dream. It’s Thai food, certainly, but several times diluted from reality. It cooks in five minutes, though, and that’s a blessing today. The world is in the time-out corner so I shouldn’t be so concerned […]
Read MoreI spent the weekend reading romance novels, tucked into myself on the bed, then the couch, then sitting upright on the bed, then draped across it, and then a little bit of each of those in turn again. I haven’t been blowdrying my hair, because it’s unnecessary. My hair dries very fast. A blowdryer is […]
Read MoreI have a soft voice. I wouldn’t say it’s soothing, smooth, or even gentle, but it isn’t jagged in the corners like an old cinder block. It’s easy to listen to. Easy to carry. Sometimes though, usually when small children have smashed my very last stretch of sanity, my voice changes. It hits a pitch– […]
Read MoreToday, I can make myself a cup of tea from scratch. So I do. I chop the ginger on my scratched wooden cutting board, and push it to the side. My hands are always washed when I’m in the kitchen, and I washed the ginger too, but just in case, I wash everything again. Mamasaur […]
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