Nachos for One

This idea started a few days ago with an offhanded comment as I shared a link on Facebook. My friends, of course, responded in kind with their own quippy remarks. “Nachos for Two… for One, Please,” said one, replied to by another with “Nachos for Four…One Fork, Please.” (And so on, and so on…) The thing is, these…

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The dawn is a blinking cursor

One day last week, I woke up with a line of verse in my head. It didn’t go anywhere, but it also didn’t go away. For days, any time my mind was at a lull, the line would float back up to the surface. I wrote it down, stared at it, willed it to continue…

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Lost and found

I’m not just a hoarder of books – I’m a hoarder of words. A very well organized hoarder, but a hoarder nonetheless. I have files and boxes full of papers, all with a certain meaning to me. There are reading packets from college courses I found particularly interesting, quotes written on post-its, notes passed back…

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On poetry and purpose

A few days ago, I read an article on The Atlantic that struck a chord. In it, author Sherman Alexie reveals that a single line of poetry inspired him to dedicate himself to the arts. Bang. It was right there. It was waiting for me. People talk about “that moment when you just know”—I don’t think…

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Repetitive motion

Beijing is perpetually under construction. This isn’t some sort of grand metaphor or anything like that. Spend enough time here and you’ll be able to distinguish the make and model of a drill within three floors of it being used. It’s so prevalent that it took six years of constant noise before neighbors realized that…

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Waking the dead

As a lifetime insomniac (a fact I’m sure I’ve mentioned here on more than one occasion) I’ve tried just about everything to coax myself to sleep. When I was a teenager, what seemed to soothe my mind was memorizing poetry. Reading aloud, the repetition of lines was my version of counting sheep. Now that I…

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