This past weekend, my girlfriend and I made dinner together for the first time. I take cooking seriously. It’s an act of great intimacy, sharing the kitchen, trusting each other to chop vegetables, cook the meat just right. It was the first time I’ve cooked with someone in their kitchen, the second woman I’ve ever cooked with (my ex-wife and I never cooked together). I discover every time I’m with my girlfriend new ways of falling in love with her, how well we work together, talk, wake up next to each other, read in the same room. I have missed parts of myself, lost them, finally recovered them.
The move comes along. Earlier, I cleared out my balcony in a couple of hours. Sunday, I nuked a hard drive after putting a lot of terrible writing onto a removable hard drive. Thirteen days, I leave this neighborhood for the first time and into something new and different.
Awhile back, I wrote about one of my fatal flaws, my obsession about threesomes. Eunoia Review published it and you can read it here. (Note: this was written while I was with my most recent ex. Just want to provide that context.)
When I was younger, I was diagnosed with hyperlexia. From ages 3-6, I attended speech therapy to learn how to talk like a normal child. I’ve worked on capturing the experience for awhile and I finally have. Nat Brut was kind enough to take the flash non-fiction piece I wrote about it, which you can read here.
Sundog Lit just came out with their second issue and I have a poem in it. The issue is terrific. You should read the whole thing over here.
February 7 at 9pm EST, I am doing a Spreecast for Bodies Made of Smoke. I’ll be reading a section from it and answering your questions about it and other projects. You can bookmark that here.