living underground in the real world

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    Those thirteen days I sat in a room and watched my mother die

    December 8. here’s a selfie from three years ago when I had — Beatle boots a pea coat Yoko hair —and a mom who didn’t hate me because she’s in pain and that…

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    December 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

    December 4, continued. We go home and she gets increasingly frustrated and confused. She’s convinced she’s at the rehab place, doesn’t get why I can’t call her favorite…

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    introductory material

    I will break this into small parts. More easily digested. I could just—not. But that’s not what I will do. I will put it all here. I will bear witness. I guess that phrase…

    blanket gratitude

    since i’m just sitting here on the couch in the dark let me write another exasperatedly badly punctuated tumblr-type post. man! i’ve gotten so much mail…


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