Tags » Navel Gazing

Big Friend of the Pod

Of all the unexpected benefits and opportunities that have come through book reviewing, surely the most humbling has been my appearance on the Perpetual Chess Podcast… 611 more words

Navel-gazing

Blackout

I’m on a social media blackout for Lent, so here is Mike’s little car, taken with my phone, through the front window.

It’s our dry season, so I’ve been working in the yard. 14 more words

Personal

Yesterday

Yesterday, while a sick fuck murdered 17 kids a few miles away at MSD High, I was taking a break from working in the yard. 347 more words

Florida

The Loss of Innocence

A friend (she’ll go by the pseudonym E) and I had a conversation.

Me: So I’ve tried to apply the literary trope of “loss of innocence” to real life. 740 more words

Navel-gazing

The gentle art of Swedish death cleaning

Today’s blog post is about decluttering.

I’ve realised that I’m addicted to books. As addictions go this one isn’t actively harmful, and I indulge it despite my relatively financially challenged circumstances because I happily buy secondhand books from charity shops at any opportunity. 1,212 more words

Margareta Magnusson

something to

I’ve been churning out poems lately, two over the last three days, and I feel something different in the way I’m writing them. I used to turn to poetry as my art form for when I needed to spill a flurry of emotions, hitting the page like a gatling gun; the most direct conversion between feelings and words. 980 more words

in search of (my own) time

Occasionally it hits me these days that I’m the one building my life, that my time now truly belongs to me. I’ll be moving through my apartment and then notice the things I’ve filled it with over the past few months, slowly making it my own, and then the thought will occur to me that I’m also building the memories of my twenties that I’ll have in the future to look back on, that the memories will contain this bottle of body lotion or this pack of essential oils for the aromatherapy diffuser sitting in the corner whose lid I struggled for several minutes to open before giving up. 1,195 more words