*This post originally appeared on September 13, 2009, titled My First Time, on The Impulse Itself (2008-2013) In September the tourists went home, it all sort of started when Felix came in early August which was also the time I kicked Kevin out of the house for the PCP. This left us, Suzette and me or…
Category: Medicine Songs
If you’re lucky, it slows your flow. On Grace.
The thing you don’t know til you live here is the way palm tree leaves look when they bend in the wind. The Santa Ana’s. They’re real. They come sailing down the canyon with whole lists of lusty springtime wants. You hear them ranting and can barely breathe. High white-sun days of Santa Ana wind…
Life is good.
So this happened and maybe best of all–electric bikes, the still quiet of the island zipping through the mist grey as air and so clearly breathing, all that silence. I stood on the roof of the lodge where we stayed and looked in to the green ferny hills wanting to be there, up…
She listens to the Avetts
dancing in sunshine, happy bc finally they feel like peace
HEART SPEAK: Saturday Holla-Rant (sucky homework, feminism, dope bodyboarders, instagram)
^ This song ^ which I discovered on Instagram by following a like to a like and then discovering the feed of one of the younger dudes that hangs out and bodyboards at the beach I go to–this one in fact, where I took Eddie and Megan to eat burritos on their way out of…
Spring is coming. I’m grown & don’t have to just lay there.
I was luminal and dreaming in my bed which means not really sleeping but not knowing that–blankie tucked all around the crevice landscape of chin shoulder ear hair. It was my patients I was luminous with, the walk with one, the couch with another, in slow-mo, returning to them in the night time as if…
Something is happening.
Out of nowhere yesterday I made the decision to detox off social media. Maybe not out of nowhere… On a recent trip to the local coffee shop I showed up to the knee deep crackle sound of beans fresh roasting, and ohh god the smell. So potent it ballooned my lungs and still sat on…
She moves on.
There are certain things I never, ever do. ~ I never write about him on here. Or, I never write about our love. ~ There’s no proof of us now. ~ Unless you know where to look. Two busted computers, saved for the hard drives. A tupperware box big as a bathtub, in a jewelry…
The 5 for freedom, PCH for peace
There is no homesick lost as the want for a good steak and cheese. It is January, California-mild, the way the smell of grease sits in the back of the throat hits me for no reason as a body sense, makes me think, damn, back there they must be cold. There are no delis here,…
Wild Women Wisdom 