Reading life
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My Best Books of 2023
I love the week before the New Year. With the end of the holiday rush, and the long, dark nights, the days feel out-of-time, misplaced, almost like you stumbled upon them after a long walk in the woods. There are no rules in liminal spaces (at least in my rulebook) and this week definitely counts…
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Bobbie.
It’s not the most creative name for a bobcat, especially one so gorgeous. I mean, look at her? Right? When she crouches down in the path at night, sometimes I mistake her for one of the feral domestic cats we encounter from time to time. But she’s definitely not domestic. A wild animal probably shouldn’t…
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Book Review: Breasts and Eggs
Between you and me (and any other internet minions) I’m a little surprised BREASTS AND EGGS was such a successful book–or is it books? (Book 1 = Breasts, Book 2 = Eggs?) The first book (I guess we’ll just call it that) was really a standalone novella, and it clips along as a thoroughly enjoyable…
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Dreams of climate change
Dreams are a notoriously boring tale to receive. So we’re told. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything inherently boring about dreams. (I mean look at that drawing above. Dreams can stir up wonder for our muses.) I’ve always argued it’s more in HOW you tell dreams rather than the dream itself. I mean, think about…
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Burning through Burnout
I have a stellar case of burnout. As in: I’m full with a burning desire to …. what? Supernova? Become a neutron mass? What is burnout? I’m not even sure. That’s the thing about burnout. It’s a difficult (and weird) feeling to define. Merriam-Webster’s gives us: “exhaustion of physical or emotional strength or motivation usually…
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Swann’s Way–my way
I’ve decided to finally read Proust. It feels like a momentous thing, though, in reality, it’s not much of a thing at all. It’s a book. Just a humble book. No lives will be harmed in the reading of this version, aka the Lydia Davis translation. (At least no lives that I know of. Apologies…
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This is just to say …
I am going for a run this afternoon. A jog is probably a better term … A huffy little sprint? No, sprint is too optimistic. I plan to huff and puff. I will bravely don my (too tight) leggings and winter hat and mittens (it’s still cold here in northern Wisconsin) and, oh, a shirt…
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A Stillness of Space
When I left Albuquerque just before the state-wide lockdown, the leaves were about to pop on the cottonwoods and I’d just seen my first dandelion. Nearly every day, I walked my neighborhood, investigating what was newly sprouting. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I tell you this: I adore Albuquerque springs. When the wisteria blooms,…
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Writing prompts from the end of the world
Some awesome writers have been offering prompts for fellow quarantined writers in these unprecedented times. I found this one on Twitter today: I didn’t end up following it exactly, but when I saw it, I figured I’d give it a shot. I mean, why not. I haven’t been reading or writing for almost two MONTHS.…
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On purpose at the end of a (previous) year
Editor’s note: I wrote this a month ago but didn’t post. December 2019 At the end of this year, since Vinny died, I can say there have been days I cried piteously, days I cried embarrassingly, days that I cried quietly, or days where I barely cried at all. But I cannot say I’ve had…
L.L. Wohlwend 