Blog Posts

  • Covert Covid

      Covert Covid

    I spent so much time as a child hiding and waiting that I am

    really good at doing this thing that we have to do right now.

    So we hide and we wait but we’re not really sure how long we have to do this.

    So I know that’s why I am getting itchy skin and restless legs syndrome.

    And I find most other people really hard to take.

    A policeman on the street corner near to me

    yells at an old lady. Construction workers spit in your path. Mask wearers versus non-mask wearers have set battle lines and there is going to be a fight this Saturday at 2:04 PM on the corner of Harrison and Santa Rosa. A duel.  Sharp tongues used as weapons and nobody has a second. Or a third or even the first. A first.

     Someone asked me what it was like the first time I knew I was in love. I told them it was so long ago I couldn’t remember.

    I guess it might honestly be right now with my puppy who jumps on my head in the early morning but does it so gently it feels like butterflies on my eyes. The first time she did it I was astonished.

     I force myself to leave the house. Yesterday I went to the dentist and it was terribly exciting. I have a canker sore. She asked me if I was stressed. Then we both couldn’t stop laughing.

     On NPR two scientists announced that the general population was drinking too much. For some reason I have always hated the obvious.

    The biggest thrill is going to the supermarket. Now I’m eating things like tuna melt and macaroni and cheese balls. Before too long I’ll be a chubby old lady. I don’t really care. Yesterday my cousin said he didn’t really care either.

    I’ve always loved that particular cousin. It’s hot now and it might be hot for a while.

     I can’t hold my breath underwater anymore as I  feel like I’m drowning even if I’m not in the pool.             

  • My first book interview

  • Please log in to my book party on Wednesday, October 7th, at 5:30 pst

    No purchase necessary just register! Can’t be bad to give a bookstore your email address!

  • A great review for The Favorite
  • The Best Memory

    The best Fall I remember happened outside of Paris due

    north near Chambord in November maybe October

    when the Beaujolais Nouveau was released along with

    me…I walked out

    the door of the inn we stayed in

    while you drank with our host.

    I wandered following troughs of wet leaves marking

    the crusades and the dark fall  all yellow

    smelling of dank and my life as an

    obedient pathfinder Joan of Arc

    wanting you to worry I was lost

    yet  knowing you never would.

    Hours later I reluctantly returned just as I used

    to at 8 and still no one noticed.

    I think we made love that night

    as we usually did but the bed was small, you

    said, as you moved across the parquet floor

    to the adjacent one

    and closer to your children across the

    Atlantic and I imagined

    us leaving in the morning croissants uncurled

    and me dressed in black because you said it was

    best and before I knew it we were back in

    California and you were married again

    yet I was still outside of Paris in November

    in 1996 longing for something I had felt

    for a brief moment but never again.