Berkeleyside

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Today's writing

Easier to close your eyes. Easier to keep trying to pull higher themes out of a laundry list of qualities handed to you by a client, a bloodless task. You’ve climbed the ladder. The view is your reward. Rich shit like that. Sometimes my own writing makes me want to hurl all over myself. That’s not the worst feeling, though. The worst is when you just don’t give a holy good goddamn. When you’re so disconnected. When your life feels like something framed on a wall in front of you.

Tres Hermanas, Sacramento

 

August 2010

 

Cough, sniff, hack

We've all been sick. I think I'm finally starting to recover. I'd better be -- I'm taking Baz to Sac for an overnight to go to the Golden State Railroad Museum. It's one of his favorites (and mine too) and I don't want to have to postpone it.

I can feel things slowing down and getting into that holiday mode. It's not a bad thing. 

Tonight's Green Apple event is POSTPONED

Two out of three readers have family emergencies. It's raining. My whole family is sick. And Election Night. We're rescheduling. 

Sometimes

Your 48-year-old self wants to hug her 20-something counterpart. You, said while sipping an espresso or sucking on a bong, because does it really matter, are not as ugly or as unwanted as you believe you are. Also, he's an asshole.