When do I engage the present? When do I embrace that which is happening right right now with its hand in my face and its stink all up in my snoz? Right. When in the history of humankind will I finish processing photographs from three weeks ago and declare fit for consumption some narrative so [...]
I am, of course, no longer in Costa Rica. I have, in fact, been gone from its fair shores for over two weeks. I would like, all the same, to attempt some consideration of my time there, my January. I write this first and with certainty: I was home in Tamarindo. My apartment with Sarah [...]
I miss the sunset, and the sundowners. I miss the surfing, and I miss two sundowners. And I'm sorry, Ashleigh, but the mustache was brilliant, and I miss that, too. We Grupo Did It, Grupo Do-It. Hold me, Eric, and tell me we can always go back.
Go to the Auto Mercado with Arnie. Buy all of their tilapia as well as many other delicious ingredients. Return home in a taxi. Turn on Paul Simon's "Graceland." Drink some mango juice. Chop up a whole load of garlic and ginger. Mix in a bowl with a half a cup or so each of [...]
I tend to anthropomorphize those objects of particular joy to me. Some of them receive names; my 2006 Honda Civic goes by SparkleMotion and my new laptop is NightMoose. And, so, I am happy to announce a new addition to my material family and a very welcome traveling companion (though one that will remain unnamed): [...]
I remain now in Baltimore, sitting and waiting and yawning in the airport, with a barely deiced plane on its way from Boston to discharge passengers and, thereby emptied, consume us for a return again. I slept four hours last night between the first-ever fully completed crossword charades and the morning's downstairs arrival of recently [...]
I am home or, that is to say, I am in Hamilton. My physical home in Seattle exists no longer in our leasing, the keys having been returned and the floors having been swept (probably), but I still hear about me the echoes, and feel the tugs, of that emotional space. My heart... my heart [...]
