24 March 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

I caught Greg in the living room SORTING THE JUNK DRAWER. The hour after he replaced all the burned out lightbulbs in the house. The day after he repaired the extensive dry rot that’s been present for, oh, ten years-ish around our two back doors.

PLEASE EXPLAIN, Diary.

Do you know what is happening? Because I DO NOT.

I asked him why he was organizing the junk drawer and he said it was because we couldn’t close it without shoving stuff down, we couldn’t find anything in it, and random items were falling out the back.   ...  read more

23 March 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

The rain arrived in Oregon again today — the same day the governor shut down most businesses and issued the Stay at Home orders. It feels fitting. I’m looking out my window now. The wind is howling and the rain is falling sideways, but I can see the Cascade Mountain Range in the distance, and it’s a crazy quilt of dark, heavy clouds and fluffy white ones with patches of intermittent blue to break up the grey scale motif. ...  read more

22 March 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

Am currently contemplating doing laundry but facing Serious Obstacles. For example, I have to walk upstairs. And, also, I Don’t Want To. NOTE: See how much COVID-19 and Self-Isolation is changing my life, Diary? Before this I NEVER contemplated doing laundry; I just forgot about it and forgot and forgot until one night at 11pm I’d remember I had no clean clothes for the next day at which point it because a Choose Your Own Adventure — Do you stumble upstairs and throw in a panicked load you’ll forget to dry? If yes, turn to page 20. Or do you decide it really is OK to wear the same jeans you’ve worn the last 10 days juuuust one more time? If yes, turn to page 82. ...  read more

21 March 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

Once upon a time, when I was 13ish, I lived with my family in a remote village in the highlands of Papua, Indonesia. The Dani tribeswomen wore string skirts and no tops and would sit on the ground in a field on market day to sell greens and sweet potatoes, handing a dangling breast like it was a sandwich to whatever child was sitting next to them feeling peckish. The kids held the boobs like sandwiches, too — flattened with two hands and gnawing on the ends. The tribesmen wore hollowed, dried gourds tied with strings around their waists and up their butts like g-strings to cover their bits — the bigger the gourd the better, obvs — and they stood near the women to make change for their purchases, grabbing money out of their wallets, shuffling it around, and shoving it back inside when the transaction was complete. Their gourds weren’t just their penis covers, Diary; they were also their wallets. So we learned thorough hand washing and not to ever — EVER — put money in our mouths earlier than we otherwise might have. #LifeSkill  But even though the men’s gourds were a feat of magic and engineering, I was WAY more fascinated by the boobs. Never had I ever seen body parts stretch so far. And the VARIETY. My goodness. The shapes and peaks and valleys were as varied as the mountains, each pair like a fingerprint — totally unique. And uniquely lovely, especially in their practicality. ...  read more

20 March 2020 — The COVID Diaries: Staying Sane in a Time That’s Not

Dear Diary,

The last time I wrote to you, I was in the 5th grade. I believe we discussed my disappointment in the durability of the press-on nails I’d purchased from the grocery store with my best friend, Tracy. If Facebook and Twitter had been a thing back then, I would’ve BLOWN UP THEIR FEEDS with complaints about how they DO NOT HOLD UP to digging gopher holes by hand in Tracy’s backyard. Total rip-off. I want my $1.49 back. ...  read more

5 Plausible Explanations for What’s Happening in Our World Right Now

It does not snow where I live. Or rather, it snows approximately one quarter of one day during the winter. Everyone gets VERY excited, we cancel everything, people from snowy climates mock our hysteria, folks crash their cars, our children try to sled on icy gravel, and stores sell out of every apocalyptic supply item: bottled water, hot chocolate, mylar survival blankets, and hot dog buns. Don’t even ask; I do not know why with the hot dog buns — I just report the fact, folks. ...  read more

What if this IS the view?

The Oregon Coast is busy behaving like it always does. Like it’s sentient. Like it’s human. Full of consistency and contradictions tumbling in upon itself. Moody and wild and untamed. And also reliably pulled by unseen gravity to approach land and recede and approach and recede and approach and recede, like it knows it belongs in both places — on the shore where it stretches so thin it’s transparent and also in the briny depths where its weight is acknowledged for the opaque and crushing force it has the inherent capacity to be.  ...  read more