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March twenty-fifth. I want it on the record that I stood outside the theater for two hours last night and I would do it again. The Hunger Games midnight premiere. I went alone, wh…
Read entryMarch fourteenth. I keep trying to describe what the yoga class does and coming up short, which is annoying because I write things for a living, loosely, in the sense that I write…
Read entryMarch third. There is a photo in my camera roll from three weeks ago that I have not done anything with. It is a flyer. It is for a letterpress workshop in April, one Saturday, co…
Read entryFebruary twenty-first. There is a karaoke bar three blocks from my apartment that I have walked past at least forty times without going in. I know this because I have thought abou…
Read entryFebruary tenth. I was standing in the CVS last Tuesday for maybe twelve minutes longer than I needed to be, in front of the lipstick display, doing the thing where you hold two co…
Read entryJanuary thirtieth. There is a specific kind of waiting that does not feel like waiting, it feels like Tuesday. The dishes are clean. Gerald is fine. The collapsed bowl is on the w…
Read entryJanuary nineteenth. I went to a yoga class this morning. This is relevant because I have never been to a yoga class before in my life, and I went alone, which means there was no o…
Read entryJanuary eighth. The laundromat on the corner takes exact change only, which I knew, and somehow still managed to show up forty cents short. I've been doing laundry at this place s…
Read entryDecember 28th. There is a specific quality to the days between Christmas and New Year's that I cannot find the right word for. Not sad, exactly. Not lonely, exactly. Just, thin. L…
Read entryDecember. The rink smelled like cold air and bad hot chocolate and something faintly metallic, which I now know is just what ice smells like up close. I went alone, which is eithe…
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