Author: Why Are You Yelling?
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How about titling it “Conversing with the Digital Void: A Raw Dialogue”?
That’s personally not what I would have chosen but… I don’t know about you but I fall down a meta-cognitive rabbit hole whenever I write now, no matter what I’m writing. After the below stream-of-consciousness-turned-convo-with-ChatGPT1, I now know this includes digital journal writing—wherein I start in earnest with self-exploration and veer into commodifying my existential…
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A fat TV character can’t exist without implicit bias (yet)
Because nothing is created in a vacuum. Have you watched Baby Reindeer yet? I wasn’t going to. I watched the trailer and thought it best to avoid it. But the buzz got the best of me, and I watched an episode. I won’t be finishing it but I have some thoughts.
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Body, she’s me
Body, she’s me. Shadow, that’s mine. Ample arms fluffymarshmallowy whitecotton-cushiony cloud hugs—when she engulfs youit reminds you of what you’ve been meaning to remember.Must be magic. At the beach, she’s as big as the ocean.Sandy thighs ripple like wavesas she drops to the ground and crosses her legs. She engulfs the shadows of seagulls. I swallow the scene. It’s…
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Reflections on “doing the work”
Today was my last session with Laura, the amazing therapist I’ve been working with since 2015. We knew that we went as far as we could go together. I have new hills to climb, and I may need a new partner to help me get there. (More specifically, I want to focus on my recovery…
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Mad Belly
Mad belly,shaking volcano. Laughing moves earth,breaking ground.Up and down vibratingsound, like thunderclapsand breaking waves. Heaving, growing,climbing for freedom. Soft hotsoil fallsfrom your fingers. Wild earth, fleshy feminine. Down belowbodies are buzzing. You make me quake.
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Monumental
I retell myself stories about you.Memories become legend, photos become statues,but your echoing laugh sounds exactly the same.Why are you alive in my sleep? It hurts me to tell you this.I don’t think he’s doing well.I don’t think I can fix it.His son’s face, turned toward the sun,is the most beautiful thing you’ll never see. You…
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Big Friends
Back then, we were other people. Your old-you met my old-meand we heard us click into place. Growing apart and back together—intertwining vines, dirt-packed back roads, a multi-colored ball of yarn—we’re at our fullest at the intersection.We’re always together at crossroads. Our appetites have grown as we’ve devoured everything in our paths. Gobbling up belly laughs, licking our plates clean, moaning with…
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Old grief in the time of covid
My mom died on March 24, 1998, just 6 weeks after she turned 35. On March 13 of this year, I turned one day older than my mom when she died. (A while back, Meaghan found an online calculator and figured it out for me so I could celebrate my day of freedom.) From that…
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A Nice Lady
My grandma turns 89 today. I can’t call her because she won’t remember me so I remember her instead. I leaned in, talking to her like nothing had changed (because for me, nothing had). I showed her old photos of herself. In one photo of my pregnant mom, she asked who it was. “That’s your…
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