liberated lines : emerge. day 7.


years ago i wrote my manifesto, and to read it now, it feels like horseshit and reads like lines from a new-age self-help feel-good publication. i don't really know who the fuck i am anymore. it's like i just traveled a birth canal, spit forth from a raving feral coyote…

touchstones and such.


after reading this morning's prompt for liberated lines i was all prepared to post something perfect and pious about what guides me and my touchstones and all that, and then i realized by 1:00 p.m. [1] i hadn't slept very much and was fading quickly as the day drew on, and, [2] i met…

the livin’ is easy.


    't'is the season. greenhouse season. the pencilfox garden starts were sowed and grown under a light in the basement. most of them are still there. but, yet, the sweet peas moved to the greenhouse yesterday. and today, milo moved his catnip to join the sweet peas. they've got each other. now they…