poetry of scars


This one doesn't feel brave or beautiful.

It is a mark of sheer stupidity

in the face of the obvious

clichè – concensus – hillbilly wisdom for fucksake


At the center it is numb

the seam stitched but

never healed proper and now

twitches in anticipation of tears


This scar – forever tender

is a daily reminder to let things lie

and the misfiring nerve makes me

acutely aware that even after all is lost

I am still a fool.


[This piece comes from a GRIND month writing on the poetry of scars.]

Final Countdown


Up FrontThere are only 3.5 working days left before Bullish joins me in The Office and all hell breaks loose Sister-Style. Oh I could promise you that we'll be serious, professional individuals during the two-week training period, but really, who'd believe me? The best we can hope for is the silent hilarity of early cinema.


The Bagel Book Gets Covered


Bagel BookIn Bagel Book News, I was up at 5:30 am, making two dozen bagels for the March of Dimes bake sale at our office today. Yeah, apparently I'm that lady now. But I think I finally got the cover image I wanted fror the book, so – totally worth it.

For eight years I made bagels for myself and my family (also Susanne). In the last month and a half, I've shoved 400-some-odd bagels into the mouths of 50, maybe 60 people, and the thing is, I liked it.

As the recepies are perfected, one by one, the testing phase is winding down, and shortly I'll be back to making the usual dozen per week to satisfy my own bagel cravings. Somehow that feels kind of sad, so every once in a while, I'll probably drag my sleepy ass out of bed at 5:30 am to boil and bake and bag up the glorified roll with a hole in my attempt to feed the world.