I don't think I know anyone born in November

Sans serif fonts are in.


The doctor has left the building.


We went to the meadow and it was even more magnificent than expected. How to put words to it: Hanna cozied up in that plaid flannel shirt, chasing through the snow after wherever her legs carried her. Scooping clusters of snowflakes off the tips of overwintering shrubs and blowing them from my fingers with a wish. The sun so powerful I felt its intensity growing from behind massive plumes of cloud. Hiking up to the overlook just as the wind blew the entire snowstorm away to reveal layers of blue and green and white and gray mountains in front of me.


I am reminded of the parable of the sun and the wind, and who could best convince a man to take off his coat. Open up let the light in.


Our lives need fantasies in order not to ruin them.


I am lying wet-haired on the blue flannel sheets in a baggy blue t-shirt and a pair of gray and pink-polka-dotted boxers.

My feet and ankles are still sore but I didn't feel a thing while I was walking. It was simply too beautiful, and too cold.


I watched the temperature drop, counting, and looked up just at the moment that rain changed to snow.


I remember driving alone through those quiet country roads in east prospect, the sun settling over farmland, and feeling for those minutes dialed in to expansiveness and possibility.


What is the guitar not playing. Act one scene twelve.


The drying rack is broken beyond repair. At this point I've spent as much on duct tape as I would on a new drying rack. My laundry bag, also, has ripped to the point that it is hardly functional. Yet I cling to my stubbornness even though I already have not won.


Some days I think Noel has more integrity than any other member of his friend group; other days I think he is lower than dirt. Which is it, Noel.


He reminds me that I contain multitudes and it is exactly what I needed to hear. Sometimes it's simply everything all at the same time.


As usual, the heron chooses this time in the evening to take flight over the closet.


I am going to start painting again. I have my PA license plate tacked up over the doorway into the kitchen.


Though I still do not much care for the taste of regular Coca-Cola, I do concede it is better out of the glass bottle.


And why is your coat hanging in my living room, holding space on that coat rack I picked up more than four years ago for $15 in Queens.


When I went to the library to cancel my membership, they seemed shocked by the idea that anyone would leave.

The rabbit sits, as always, beneath the moonlight and the snow-covered boughs.


My back really aches, so much so that I can barely move it. My back is going to feel better soon.



I'm a different person now.


I trust that there is nothing to get back to.