Latest Entries
171. how Joey helped to dot my i
Coversations with Joey / The Art Of Leaving

171. how Joey helped to dot my i

Good question, Joe. Best one. As usual, I have no fucking clue. This has always been the structure of our conversations. After the initial pleasanteries we became too fond of to discard even after decades of intimacy, he’s suddenly come out with a question that defies all answers I could possibly give, then we’d sit on the makeshift bed as some mild, saxophone melody made its way from the ’59 and into the air, slowly sifting the minutes of the evening into little eternities of silence. A contemplative, congenial one, not too uncomfortable to bear, but loaded enough to make you grow. Continue reading

170. the beautiful ugliness of becoming
My Hidden Lives // Prose / The Art Of Leaving

170. the beautiful ugliness of becoming

Today, I am thinking of us, and I thought it might please you to know that however beautiful the ugliness here is, it is nothing compared to ours. The years, the awkward history, the pure joy that comes out of glorious imperfection. The time we’ve spent staying, in the dark patches of our lives, in the in-between bits of what we’d thought then life was supposed to be. Continue reading

169. ten thoughts about leaving (you have to wait / I’ll be okay)
My Hidden Lives // Prose / The Art Of Leaving

169. ten thoughts about leaving (you have to wait / I’ll be okay)

You are not dead, and you will never be dead. I will sit at my table making pie while following the instructions that you gave me, it will be your pie. And I will think of you there, in your reclining chair, as Grandfather counts the pills you need to take, as you complain about the heat in the room or request more socks. I will have the advantage of not seeing you leave, the bliss of being able to explain away your absence in another way.

I’ll be okay. Continue reading