November and Other Liminal States
Finishing drafts and crying into my PSL.
The Inescapable Symbolism of the Seasons
Where I’m at in my Death Card Year.
This is me with a broken heart.
Grief, loss, and and the mess of continuing to live.
Letters from the Island of Ambiguous Loss
Dear Ghost,
I’m writing this letter in my best attempt to exorcise you.
When The Sun Breaks
The sun is out today. It’s 33 degrees Fahrenheit in Buffalo, New York, with a wind chill that would make you think it’s the dead of winter. It is winter, still…but only for two more weeks. Tonight we change the clocks again–spring forward, as it were–losing an hour of sleep but suddenly gaining an hour […]