What to do when a bird gets stuck in your house

There’s power in that wind

I’ve been spending a lot of dreamy time these days on a 15 year old breeze.  An almost forgotten name popped up on some website or another, and after a series of rabbit holes and poking around in digital cardboard boxes, I’ve come face-to-face with a previous self.


She was brave, braver than I am these days.  She also cussed a lot, probably to cover up some of the insecurities of all that bravado.


It’s raining today, for the first time in what feels like months.  It came out of nowhere on my morning run, leaving me out of breath and a dripping ponytail.  I could feel the ground beneath my feet opening up, grateful for something it hadn’t realized it needed.


12 August 2008, 6:42 pm
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I keep on waiting for inspiration to strike, but quite frankly, I’m not sure what level of disclosure I’m comfortable with yet.  But since I’ve got a big glass of wine chasing down a shitty day, and since R has yet to come home and the Olympics are boring, I pulled up a chair to my own dis-ease and thought I’d throw some words out to the non-existent ether.

I used to do this thing: 100words.net.  Through rain, cold, disease, continents, heartache, beauty, sweat, tears, and awestruck thunder, I wrote down 100 words every single effing day for 4 years.  Not all of them were posted (I was in Africa in pre-Internet days) not all of them exist anymore, but I googled my old webfriend Jeff Koyen the other day and there it was.  A grainy image of a grainy former self, full of wonder at San Francisco and wondering what would happen next.  This was before airplanes took down buildings, before I broke my first heart, before I knew what Cipro tasted like if you accidentally got it wet.  I touched the screen, wanted to feel what I felt like.  All I ended up with was a slight static electricity shock and a lump in my throat.  I am not sentimental and firmly believe that we should roll through life without the constant judgment  nostalgia implies.  But damn.  I love that fragile version of a shadow self.  I want to hold her close, throw her ideas into the sky and lie to her about what comes next.