the edges of myself

words, words, words

I’ve spent years dancing around my writing practice. I’ve moved in fits and spurts through months of writing and months of silence. I’ve paid tribute sporadically to the scurrying stories in my head, and done my best to be nice to myself when I’ve kept those stories caged. I have made declaratives in hopes of …

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Yesterday was day five of my self-imposed television liberation– and I’m not gonna lie, it was tough. I did have thoughts of just turning on the damn tv. But I restrained myself. I fought through the temptation to wither and collapse at the feet of my mighty electronic master. I emerged at the end of …

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I’m sorting through a lot of late.  (When am I not?)  But by far the most potent thing seems to be acknowledging and letting go of the stories I tell myself.  (And I tell myself a lot of stories.)  Many of them are based in truth, or partial truth– and have some vague notion of …

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