Finalized

Hi, everyone. About a year ago I told you Bryan and I were separating. You left hundreds of comments on those posts and sent a host of emails. I mentioned this at the time, but it bears repeating: None of your notes was mean spirited. That still drops my jaw.

I’ve been writing online for twelve years now, and I’ve learned that emotional topics don’t always go over well. Divorce has affected so many of us, it’s a cultural raw spot. It can be easy to confuse the pain of someone touching an open wound with the pain of someone inflicting a fresh one. I expected some hurt, and even rage, to pepper the support here. In fact, I thought it was inevitable. So I braced myself before I hit post, and walked away for a few hours. The kindness I returned to was humbling.

All of us have seen people offload pain onto someone else online, or simply fail to consider the weight of their words. I so appreciate that no one here did that. Perhaps you had to hold your tongue, and if you did, I’d buy you a beer if I could. Your restraint saved me some downtime. To those of you who offered condolences, thank you again for your kindness.

I’m writing this because our divorce was recently finalized. Until the papers came, I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, though I know it’s been obvious to some of you. What do you write about when most of what you’re thinking isn’t meant for public consumption?

That said, I’ve learned so much through this period, and I’ve spent a lot of time in crash position. (Growth. Ow.) Some of you have said you’re going through your own divorces right now, and oh kid, I know it’s awful. I wish I could wrap you up.

In the coming weeks, I’d like to talk about the helpful things people have said to you, some of the realizations you’ve had about the divorce or break-up process, and the coping mechanisms you’ve found useful. I think it’s good to have that information out there, and I trust you guys to keep it sane.

I also have good news to share. I’ve been snorzeling my kid (who is doing well, to my profound relief), and traveling, and making lists as usual. This has been the most difficult period of my life, but some time has passed, and the bad stuff is always mixed in with the good.

Through all of it, your grace as a community has been a comfort and a source of pride. Thank you again, everyone. You lend me honor.

And Everybody Goes Awe

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” -Jack Kerouac

Glowing Man HD from Jacob Sutton on Vimeo.

(via @boltron)


(via bb-blog)

Ladies Night Transcript: Keep it Classy, SoHo

Upon passing a beauty shop:

Girl 1: I know what a Brazilian wax is, but what do you guys think a Brazilian Manicure is?
Girl 2: Maybe they have you strip naked, throw your legs up behind your ears, and then paint your fingernails?
Girl 3: Actually, I’m preeetty sure they paint your anus.
Girl 2: Is this the new vaginal bleaching?
Girl 1: You can get designs!
Girl 3: “I’d just like a circle of arrows, please? Pointing inward? Thanks.”
Girl 2: That’s nice! Like a little directional aid. Maybe it also says, “Enter here!”
Girl 1: I want mine to say entre vous! Because if it’s French, it’s classy.
Girl 3: Right. Keep it classy.

Tokens

Yesterday I picked a dandelion
For your buttonhole.
I chose it for its primary color
And because it is a humble, hardy weed.
But you had no buttonhole
So you carried it for an hour
Sniffing it now and then
(Its scent is yellow)
Until we had to go home
And you found a hospitable bush
To place it on.

Today I snapped a spring of lilac
For your buttonhole.
I chose it for its delicate tint
And because of its exquisite grace.
But you had no buttonhole
So you carried it for an hour
Sniffing it now and then
(Its perfume is intoxicating)
Until we had to go home
And since it had wilted
You dropped it on the ground.

Tomorrow I will give you
A bright green inedible fruit
And see what you do with it.

—Deborah Pease

Library Portraits Project: Golden Gate Valley Branch

As part of my Life List, I’m photographing all the public libraries in San Francisco.

I love libraries, but as of now, state funding for California libraries has been cut entirely. Oof, it makes me queasy. I know you guys like books too, so please take a minute to write a letter or two in support of restoring funding. All the information you need is here. Go team.

If you liked this post, you might also like Go Read a Book.

How it Flew from Her

From her mouth. It gathered its small, soft body and leapt
forward, up and out. And then it was gone. She knew
because of the dark hollow in her chest, like the place a woodpecker makes,
keeps making, until it’s emptied the wood of food
and moved on. She didn’t try to stop it, because she didn’t know
what it was; what came from her mouth
looked like a white moth, the kind that eats wool, so she clapped her hands,
chased it to the window, pulled the shade down
and pretended that was that. It’s surprising it stayed
as long as it did, because most of all, she made it wait. She made it wait
while she beat a dead horse, hit the nail on the head, drove her point home,
split hairs, threw fat on the fire, killed birds with a stone.
Naturally, it grew tired of waiting,
tried to tell her, made a few practice runs, beat its wings;
she could feel it, don’t tell me she couldn’t, she could hear
the wings beat. She still feels it, like when you lose an arm or leg
and it aches but there’s nothing there
to ache. That’s how hollow she feels. She talks a lot, laughs
with her mouth open wide. Not everyone knows why,
but I do: she’s making a place for it to come back to.

—Amy Dryansky