First day, no sleep for two days, crying, a little more crying, a good walk, a good holy time at both an Orthodox and a Catholic ceremony

I'm sleeping on a couch for two weeks? Shit, well-- hum. OH HA HUM.

Folio arrived

I got my contributor's copy in the mail yesterday. I had started to wonder if they just decided, without telling me, that they weren't going to publish my story. It had been that long since I'd heard anything... but here it is! It's very interesting to be in American University's journal because it's clear they have a rather large budget. Glossy paper. At least 25 pages of art. Etc. It's beautiful! I wish that the cover didn't have a teenage girl in a bathing suit, though. She does have a thoughtful face I guess!

How strange

to think I lived for a year in England and did the transatlantic flight several times with no worry, even on Air France when the bolts were rattling in the plane's bones and they fed me rice cakes as their vegetarian meal, even on the other planes, too, as we flew over Iceland and they showed a picture of a viking blowing hard from that land as a way to remind us that turbulence was normal, when I lived from one large suitcase and was so content.

Two weeks is nothing, right? But it's so different now. I have a "normal" job talking to people with severe, persistent mental illness and an office with a door I can close. I won't be working there for over two weeks. I was walking along Belair Road yesterday and it hit me that I would be leaving the east coast oak trees and dying grass for a place with long days and weak sunshine. The heat off Belair was melting the tar. I was excited in that moment to think about new air and different pollens and barometric patterns. How is it that my life has gotten so small?

I read some of the poems in the workshop packet and worried about the age of the group. I sensed youth. I sensed my own age. It will be fine, I know. I know. And on the subject of cultural differences, I have decided to try images. I started a tumblr for the trip. Maybe you want to see it? Wooden Hinges I do not know if I will actually post anything on it, though, because I am for words. I am for reading. I will post some images here on this old blog, for sure, and write here, too, and continue to believe that the Internet is also for things that require language.

Wish me luck and wish me luck in the Sanskrit-cousin tongue of my mother's people.

Damn, my man is good!

1972 Ironhead, completely restored with hand fabricated parts, including brass bells, pressure cooker vents and pump plates! Those exhaust pipes were created to fit around the motor and the kick start. Oh, and it's jockey shift.
Yes, Yes YES!

New C-A-M-E-R-A

My Fifi, 88 years old, the only smile all day
My hubbie is one hot biker

Dali Lama in DC

"He often says, perhaps only slightly in jest, that he gives these renowned mystical and advanced initiations as a pretext so people will come and thus allow him to spend time presenting the basic Buddhist teachings he feels we really need to hear and take to heart."



It was beautiful to see so many colors of robes on the Metro and on 7th Street.

I made these earrings

Please don't be jealous of my new jewelry.

Ronnie, nap. Ronnie, glamour shot. Ronnie, apprehensive.

My big brother is having a hard time adjusting to me now. He yells this song, "That ol' mutt loves my mommy and I want to bite his face off." He sings the melody to an old, traditional Chihuahua folk song. I try not to take it personally because it's clear he has emotional problems. His name is Machismo for heaven's sake.

I'm enjoying daily pets and catch. I'm starting to live.

Thanks, Keyhole

I will have three short shorts in the new issue of Keyhole, including my "Voice, Lost" story that I wrote a couple of years ago. It has a home! Hooray. Also accepted: a story about an "unbaptisism" and a story about a woman who owns a car service that runs people out to Jessup to visit their incarcerated family members.