There are eggs cooking in a pan. Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side? The notes drift into the kitchen and I feel them in my chest, know them by heart. There’s a special joy in unexpectedly hearing a song you love right when you need to hear it; a little gift from the universe. Serendipity. He heard it too and runs to me; his 6 year old hands outstretched, inviting me to dance. I move the half cooked eggs off the burner. Breakfast can wait, my dance partner can’t.
So the other night I had this dream that I was somehow entangled with religious fundamentalists and I was told to gather a few things that were really important to me before we all climbed onto a big tour bus. So there I was, crying and clutching my wedding ring, a manila folder full of papers… and a coffee maker... That sounds about right, I *do* love coffee (and manila folders).
I'm a poet. I always have been. And even though my writing of late has moved towards essays and magazine articles (money), I will always be a poet. I love to talk and will spend hours chatting away in person, but when I write I am minimalist, I want to conserve words, I want crystallized moments to explode off the page in just a few sentences. I love the power of poetry. I love its beauty and its truth. And on days when the world seems ugly and gray, I remember that human beings can write poetry and how amazing that it is, and I am filled with hope again.
This is where I'll be on Wednesday night. Part of the FronteraFest Short Fringe, Bad Parents, will be at Hyde Park Theatre on Wednesday, Jan. 22 at 8 pm. The show is hilarious and was written by the über talented Max Langert, whom I met as an Austin cast member of Listen to Your Mother last year. He and Tristan told touching stories about their mothers, while I was sharing one of my finer parenting moments: The Vagina-Mommy Incident.
He wanted to ride the carousel at the mall. He’s five now, so I got on with him intending only to help him find an animal and climb up. The carousel was old and small, and wobbled as everyone climbed aboard. I put him on top of a brown horse with a flowing mane and wild eyes -- It was a good fit.
I am standing in a museum surrounded by marble statues of people from worlds long gone; they are echoes of some other unreal time. History is like that to me, it never feels real. I pick a bench in a sunny, windowed corner to sit and write. I've come here to try to dispel the dark clouds that have been chasing me this week
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
Earlier this year, I was chosen to read an essay about motherhood as a member of the 2013 cast of the Listen to Your Mother Show. It was an amazing night full of wonderful stories by talented writers all celebrating motherhood. I was so honored to be a member of the cast this year. Here is the video of me reading my essay, The Vagina-Mommy Incident. It's about the time I thought it would be a good idea to tell Kai the proper name for our genitals and how great that went
I drew this comic last year and thought I would re-post it this week in celebration of the supreme court ruling on the defense of marriage act. I spent a good portion of my week at the state capitol building protesting a bill that would restrict women's freedoms in Texas. When you try and explain things like sb5 and doma to a 5 year old boy and he looks at you like you're crazy... not because you are fighting them... but because they even exist in the first place, it really puts it into perspective. Let's all stop trying to control each others bodies and hearts. No one loses when we let others pursue happiness.