I don’t know how any of us are reading right now, let alone getting up, drinking coffee, sighing deeply into the steam, and not going straight back to bed (if you are doing this, you’re my hero always, everyday). But we are and we will and we continue.
I’ve been trying to write about how I’ve been struggling with poetry lately. Specifically struggling with the poetry publishing world. Truthfully, if I asked myself the series of questions my therapist often reminds me to ask, this struggle is a question about my writing identity. Am I a
On August 2nd, I had the rare opportunity to spend a whole day at a bookstore (Rubber Rose Books and Print in Kankakee!) during its three-year anniversary. I was there to support my kid doing a little pop-up shop of their original art and tried to sling some of my
When I was younger, we didn’t talk about sex or sexuality in my house. There wasn’t any conversation about desire or attraction or even good models of what this might be. My parents got divorced around the time I started really exploring my sexuality and since their divorce
I think that you should read Post Colonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz. I’m probably requiring it for my creative writing students next semester. Which isn’t to say you have to do what I say but maybe I can tap into that uncomfortable power dynamic of teaching for
It’s getting near the end of the semester. Birds have started chirping again in central Illinois. My birthday has come and gone, thankfully without me having to teach on my birthday this year. I’ve turned on my air conditioner and then my heat and now my air is
1. Like many people I’m reading On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder to get a better idea of what a more tyrannical, authoritarian government looks like and what I can do right now. Like some people I read the graphic novel version which has illustrations by Nora Krug. Like other
Progress is funny. People always describe it as going forward. A year goes by, or ten, and there’s more and more…progress. So I’m told. But progress towards what? I’m tempted to chew on the word until it congeals and breaks apart into an amorphous blob like
I’m half tempted to post this title and be done with it. A statement into the ether. Something I hope the aliens pick up as they listen in to all our ramblings and dreams. Or a phrase that shot across the screen of someone on the brink starting a
This is not a review of Arthur C. Clarke’s book The City and the Stars or really an analysis/critique of the book. It’s more a burning question I’ve had since I finished this book last summer: How can someone see humans, and their future, in such
Trigger Warning: discussion of rape and/or sexual assault As most comics readers, I often find myself at the dollar bins or trolling comic shops during sales to find missing parts of my collection or new series to dive into. For me, I’m often drawn to old single issues
In late August, my father died. This is the first time I’m writing that down in a place where others will see it. It feels like I’m actually pointing to my grief instead of just piling more dirty clothes on top. This feels like a good step. My