Category Archives: Year-end

“Because entrances! Audacity! Breakdowns! The hots!”

Delighted to end 2015 with a poem of mine about the TV show Empire published in The Broken City’s “Remotely Controlled” TV issue (#17), which you can read online or download. It begins,

Because Cookie punched BooBooKitty right in the damn face
then 40 seconds of ohhellno awyeah on a red pool table!

(The poem uses up my entire lifetime’s allotment of exclamation points but it did seem, given the subject, an appropriate place to put them all at once…)

This caps off a lovely 2015 for me from a reading and writing perspective, with a grand independent bookstore adventure and library book bingo fun, and poems published in FIELD, The Operating System, and The Human. And I even survived the rampant Seahawks fans of my new city.  I only managed six of my supposed-to-be-monthly posts this year, but that just gives me an easy new year’s resolution.

Happy new year!

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A 2014 Reconnoiter

Dawned cold in Seattle this morning, which means it’s clear and gorgeous, mountains out. Hello, 2015, good to meetcha.

I’ve been out of school for ages now and am not a teacher, but fall still always feels like the real start of the year to me, calendar and tradition notwithstanding. This year in particular — I got a big new job and moved to Seattle in October, a brand-new start on all fronts. (I even have new hair! growing it out after something like 15 years of having it very short). And years are funny anyway, some have those moments you can specifically date, when someone close died, when someone had a wedding, when you got your puppy. Other years you remember but can’t date, that year we all had terrible coughs on Orcas Island and had to sleep sitting up in the beach chairs in the living room, which year was that? that year the family friends’ boys so entertainingly hog-tied their mother’s pugs with Christmas ribbons, which year was that? the year I finally broke down and started texting, which year was that? the year I read like all of Kurt Vonnegut’s novels back to back, which year was that? And now I’ve got my Portland years, nine of them, and fairly soon I won’t be able to remember which apartment I had while I had with which job, which year I started going to Stumptown for coffee every morning, which year my writing group started. Continue reading

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