Today’s been a lot like a pregnant and laboring octopus– an eight-legged creature full of thousands of different lives that kept bursting into existence all at once. It contained multitudes, and time and direction seemed even less real than normal, and so here we are. It’s 11pm ish and I haven’t written anything or even […]Read More
My love boomerangs and shapeshifts, and hovers like goosebumps leapt out of my skin. My love’s scratched up like a record that skips as well as it croons, like a window that can’t quite stay open but tries, like hardwood floors that the dogs are allowed to dance on now. My love gets growing pains, […]Read More
When 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 More
Freeze your love for safe-keeping.
Call it grief.
For love, and how it is the first thing to greet me anywhere I go. For my freedom For my family, and the ridiculously long group texts that keep us connected. For my every day people who are there through for the boring Thursday and the traumatic Mondays alike. For patrons of finance and spirit […]Read More
Or, “An Overly-Accurate Dating Profile” I make my own hummus. I have about five go-to variations. It’s not that I love hummus. In truth, I’d prefer salsa and chips, or veggies and ranch, or crisp celery dolloped with peanut butter. I just like making hummus. It’s a hobby. I also write a blog. It’s like […]Read More
I don’t remember learning how to love, originally. I only remember the origins of little love-habits. I remember holding onto my stuffed elephant, tucked safely in my right arm always– a light grey beast with pink-tinted ears. He must’ve been a foot tall, if he could have stood on his own, but he couldn’t. He […]Read More
My cats didn’t eat my husband’s dead body. I asked. The very nice lady said she would have noted any bite marks or removals from the body during the autopsy. They have to do an autopsy when someone dies and isn’t found for two days. They have to do an autopsy when a 35-year-old man […]Read More