I took a break, y’all. After writing myself into a corner and getting worked up over a nonsense conspiracy-laden faux-mystical tract about COVID vaccines in April, I realized that I had burned myself out. I’ve lived a lot of life in the past three months. I took a somewhat secret trip to New Orleans, enduredContinue reading “Sleepless After Seattle”
Or Sorry, I Couldn’t Come Up With a Better Pun “Oh, I could write a book.” –Anna Stevenson, close friend and fellow PK Wherever there are men of God, there are traumatized offspring left in their wake. We are expected to be either perfect or pervy. We are either kind, or kind of sickening. WeContinue reading “Children of the Corn-secration”
Until we finally moved to Nashville when I was 12, my mind never stopped fidgeting. Small-town life fit me like a shrunken tank top and annoyed me like the itchy label in back. I was relieved to cast it aside in time for my teenage years.
“While I created some separation in my world, my sense of time over the past year was the same amorphous blob I’ve heard others describe–mostly one long stretch of disconnection, with blips of normality around the edges.”
Daylight is a metaphor for life itself, and planning our days around its ebbs and flows is just as natural for us as it is for time to not pay attention to our silly theatrics and to keep flowing as it always does.
“Dr. Newman is a guest in our home. If I’m self-conscious, he’ll be ill at ease. I can’t allow that to happen. It would be… un-Southern.” –Blanche Devereaux, The Golden Girls What does it mean to be Southern? Ask ten people, and you’ll get fifteen answers. The rules of engagement for being a “real” SouthernerContinue reading “Whither unSouthern?”