Summer Selves

There were moments, when I was with him, when I’d stop and think: he has never seen me in a summer dress.  Never watched me shrug on a worn denim jacket, tie the laces on beat up white sneakers, push Ray-Ban sunglasses up onto my head, hoping my curls won’t get tangled in the metal…

My Heart is Soft and Easily Marked

I was meant to be at a concert tonight. My second one since before the pandemic, the first one in a time that actually feels hopeful. Spring, the beginnings of it, the melting of the snow and the anticipation of sun, of warmth, of crocuses pushing their way up from the ground. I wait for…

Daydreaming, Futures, Belief

I had an off day yesterday. I spent the morning going through the motions of being human, breathing and saying and being, and I was fine but there was a knot in the pit of my stomach, and I didn’t know how it got there, and I didn’t know how to get rid of it.…

Writing, Dancing, Life, Newness, etc.

I’ve been thinking about writing. Thinking about thinking about writing. Thinking about what would come from my fingertips if I managed to get past the fear of staring at a blank page, if I could actually just open a new document and start typing about what has been on my mind, what I’ve been mulling…

Your Love is (Still) My Favourite Band

Two weeks ago The Vaccines released a new album. Their fifth one, glimmering and exciting and enticing. Served on a silver platter, wrapped in a bow. It’s fantastic, it has a piece of me already. It makes me want to dance, it makes me feel like a badass, just as The Vaccines have always made…

Emerging/Renewing/Becoming

I have spent the past week feeling entirely like myself, firmly planted in my body, aware of the layer of light surrounding my skin, radiating out toward the world. Playing records so loudly the floor shakes and my thoughts disappear, the closest thing there is to a gig at this point in time. Baking cakes…

Moments of Existence Vol. I

I have been struggling to write for three weeks. This is not unusual for me, not something I do not know how to wade through, how to come out the other side of. The valleys of creativity are often far more numerous than the peaks. It is a fact of being an artist. And I…

All of Life is a Love Letter

I think my handwriting was made for love letters. I journal every day, at least once, often twice. Always in black ink, always in cursive. And it’s for me, this ritual, a documentation of thought and feeling, breakthroughs and ideas. Hope and fear and worry and possibility and joy. Magic moments. Moments that make my…

On Imperfect Art and Being Seen

I make art everyday. That’s the intention, at least, to wake up and drink tea and start writing ideas out, to eat toast and read and drink more tea, to daydream about the ideas. To get dressed and wear a good band t-shirt and sit down and actually create, sometimes with words, sometimes with lines,…

(Slowly) Learning to Break the Rules

Yesterday afternoon I made a cup of tea, as I usually do, extra caffeine to propel me through the last eight hours of the day. And I’d usually grab a biscuit out of the package and shove it in my mouth on the way up to my room, mug in one hand and the other…