Dylan Thomas convinced me to pierce me cartilage for my 30th birthday. Yes, that Dylan Thomas. The mid-century welsh poet who wrote so powerfully, evocatively: rage rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good... Continue Reading →
I'd be lying if I said that I was overwhelmed at the 1500 people who read my blog about what it was like to experience Trump's election as a sexual abuse survivor. (Ok, it'd only be a half lie because... Continue Reading →
Sup. *head nod* I'm dating myself; early 2000's middle schooler here. Is anyone else shameless enough to admit that they used this word fifteen years ago? Urban Dictionary (wow 2003) defined sup as "A term that cool people use because... Continue Reading →
You'll be able to tell that my mind is empty when I write about writing. Today it's raining. The candles are lit , the coffee is hot, and the baby is wide awake. So he's in his highchair, kicking and... Continue Reading →
So it begins. Again. This writing thing that I want to run from but stumble over. I've started and stopped too many writing attempts over the years. I did a whole chapter of the Artist's Way, once, but I hated... Continue Reading →
I've been thinking about cutting my hair for three years. It started when I was on a plane to my brother's wedding and was very annoyed that my beautiful, flaxen waves got stuck in things: other people's coat buttons, the... Continue Reading →
Amy is a poet so tender. She bikes around New York City in stilettos but strolls in combat boots and sequined skirts. Amy damages your soul in all the right ways. Kate lived well in NorCal vineyards after we all... Continue Reading →
I feel better today than I've felt in a few weeks, better than I felt over my birthday weekend. Less hopeless, more buoyant. Maybe it's the rain -- I love rain. When the whole world has to play at being... Continue Reading →
Today in New York it's wet and chilly, and I couldn't be happier about that. It's one of the better days for wordsmithing; without the satisfaction of sunshine, creativity is cornered and squeezed out. It's one of the better days... Continue Reading →
C. M. Sangalis 