Hi friend, welcome to my blog. Feel free to stay awhile. Make yourself comfortable. I'll put on a pot of coffee. xoxo, anna ...
The way you watch, the way you behave. When you participate and don’t negotiate. When you indulge in the pleasure of your unrequited love. When you don't hold up your end of our bargain. Look in the mirror — wink! Say to yourself, "hey there sexy, you're an internet voyeur!" And I’m not here to kink shame, quite frankly, but to name the obvious. It can be a tricky game, the one you are in, when…
In the night before rest I will over ——— ——— extend. Prepare jars filled with bandage and my resin, on hand. Priests, bear your cloth. For my funerary offer calls. This body of gods, whimpers ——— wants. Bound in gauze, wrap me taut. Bless this interment for one. Come the death of today Shall my body be laid? This pain is embalmed, as remains. xoxo, anna
Between spring and now, I’ve been held in the hazy stretch that lingers around August. I have been all wrapped up in the memory of August — a big blue blanket spread wide across the season, with edges brushing against July and September. Inside, I sleep, though never deeply. Awake — with each small glimpse of dreaming. I toss. I turn. I sob, and I stay — I always stay. Each movement pulls between…
When we will meet, surely nose to chin, where my bridge meets your jaw’s slope — lips soft between ridge. You will furrow your brow, deep lines run parallel with the thought of my heart — held high across your forehead. That tremor along your chin, a permanent response. My left brow up, right brow down: she bows and lowers — lower, and lower. When we will meet, and press deep across face, I…
Are you the missing person? Do you smell like long-lost love, heart-breaking nostalgia, and summer skin? Have you always been that way—sweet, naked, and soul-crushing? Maybe it is you. Maybe it’s all of you. A composite of the scents I’ve known, the memories I’ve kept. Because memory works that way, doesn’t it? A smell, even if barely there, can reach deep in one's heart, stomach, and mind.…
Where does your mind go in transit? Where does the mind slip off to, when the body is suspended between here and there? I am beginning to believe that all trains, buses, and planes are wired with a secret contraption, one which extracts our sense of the moment and replaces it with a feeling of the past. That perhaps, the owners of "Big Transit" are hoarding our in-the-now feelings to bask in our…
There goes a little plane, a far away plane. From this far down they move so slowly. Placed within view for just two minutes before taking cover behind the clouds. I used to wonder where the planes were going. Hoping, not quietly, to be seated on one. There goes another plane. The previous one, long out of the airspace now. Do they always take off so close together? The first plane has circled now…
I want you to think of your beloved objects. The objects that are both memory in nostalgia and memory in making. The things that remind you of who you have been and who you now are. Think of the objects that serve as the body of your memories. Last Monday, I awoke bright and early for my first day of work. I ensured I had enough time to really enjoy the morning. Each day, this time is lovingly…
They say the best way to learn a language is full immersion. Last week I found myself swan-diving straight into a world where I don't yet speak the language. Not in the literal sense, but in the way of acronyms, industry jargon, and processes I have yet to encounter. A new job, new organizations, and in a role I have never done — it is exhilarating and terrifying in the way that arriving in a…
Disclaimer: I love the way you choose what you eat. It means you are thinking about it. An ex-vegan walks into a butcher and asks for a steak. The butcher says “which one?” The ex-vegan stutters, refers to her notes, and says “T-bone — half a kilo.” She has been preparing for this moment for weeks. The butcher weighs and wraps. They exchange card for kilo. The ex-vegan goes on her way, off to the…