What prompts? January

The prompts are prompting too much private thought.

(apologies for this whole post, because i am rambling and there is feast, and there is famine.)

and so i’ve got nothing from them to share here. believe it or not, there is a level that i do not share here. Isn’t that wild?

I’ve just finished my big project and i’ve got these three days to do ‘nothing’ and so yesterday i turned on the tv mid-day. this is not progress and nope, it wasn’t satisfying.

i am going to try and read today, and put more plastic on windows and try to make this place a bubble of plastic and blankets.

the sun is out hard today and i love it. it is doing its damnedest from millions of miles away, to unfurl the leaf of the rhododendron. the birds are happy for it, and i’m rueing the day i put on cotton socks.

i’m sitting in my kitchen wrapped in a flannel blanket my grandmother made for one of her great grandchildren. these are footsteps i like to look at, but can only limp towards.

the last two days i’ve woken up in the range of 4 am. i’m going to lay my mood at the feet of the gods, and tomorrow with no one to wake up and no one to ferry, i will make up for it.

the kids are with me this weekend and i heard my middle on the phone with his dad and his gf (as an aside: why? i do not know. generally one is enough on the phone, but you know? whatever. i try to envision every having a man on the phone with me, to talk to my children, and cannot. it upset me but its probably totally normal, i don’t know. )

so anyhow, the dad asked what was on the plan for this weekend and so my son asked me and so i thought these things:

we’re in a pandemic. it is likely to be under 30 degrees outside. we’re not going anywhere. we’re not doing anything.

and then i felt bad, i did, i do, even. like, maybe i’m not a good enough mom because i’m not taking them fucking skiing or something.

and then i thought, i don’t want to take them fucking skiing. its a pandemic. it is likely to be under 30 degrees outside. we’re not going anywhere. we’re not doing anything.

so. any big plans this weekend? If you’re going fucking skiing, my kids would like a ride.

love love,


so there.

The art box. Marbles in paint. It was magic. It was.


What do I write about today, January?

Honestly, I’m a little stuck. my mood is querulous- petulant and whiny. and nervous. and kind of pissy.

yes, i cried yesterday. yes, i had to pull over when i got a text that trump had already left the building. i had to breathe again, and its been a long time.

and then there is a lot more. i watched the ceremony through my fingers in case there was an assasination. there’s that. the reality of that is not going to go away. so i want everyone to stop celebrating.

and so i wrote and then i kept writing and i’m going down a damn rabbit hole, throwing my lot in with the reproducers and the sex fiends. so there.

And today, sober again. (i really don’t drink fuckers, i mean the sober of seriousness)

So glad there is a leader at the helm, so flustered by the continuation of the problems that brought the other guy there. Its all still there, the ugly, the erosion. Its all still there. I don’t feel nearly as good as I thought I would, though I am thrilled that I don’t have to hear him speak maybe ever again. Maybe never.

And I understand the anger about lipservice and status quo politicians. I do. Look, that speech was great, the poem was too, but tell me where to put my foot for that first step. Somebody fucking tell me.

And I know all about abuse, and not believing it to be over and getting stuck waiting for the shoe to drop. I am not waiting for someone else’s shoe to drop, I’m just dealing with my own.  

The shoes have been kicking shit all over the place for the past four years. I’m not waiting. The shit is here.

What the fuck now, man? We can’t go back to what we were, no matter how many executive orders are shoring up the riversides. Thank god they are, yes, but we still can’t go back. And so we’re left on this crumble.

Aren’t you glad I wasn’t the poet laureate?

Love me love me say that you love me. Fool me, fool me,

love love,


  • no photo because my god. grr. piss. vinegar. all.

TODAY, january 20

we get a new president here, today.

let me just say that i am pleased.

in that pair of sentences there is a lot of yelling and crying, some fear, a lot of awakening and a whole lot of depression.

the country is not the glowing shiny ball in the sky. we are deeply cracked. who knows what we will become when we fall apart?

maybe we’ll seek repair. possible.

doesn’t seem like too many people who are politically passionate really care for that. there is far too much judgement on both sides.

i was a democrat most of my life. i had no idea people thought democrats were evil. i mean, like, baby killers. i just thought it was the party of social programs, care for the poor, governement care for the struggling.

i’m probably still a democrat, i certainly haven’t made a move to change anything officially. but man, both sides are so broken. republican as it is written doesn’t exist anymore. or is the true silent majority. Remember ‘family values’? and how it was used to judge and condemn? well. i am a fan of supporting business, i am. though i’m more a fan of workers, to be true.

sigh. there is a lot here, in this country. the chips are falling.

today though, there is to be a new president. and it feels like a team of adults has entered the building.

we’ll see.

yes, i’m holding my breath.

gray window close up photography
Photo by Prateek Katyal on

These things, January.

i’m not following a prompt, but they’ve been influencing me greatly these past two weeks.

what has?

these things.

  1. the creative minds of others. i’m just blown out of my space by these people. out of my orbit. How can they walk around with all this color and word-richness in their heads? How do they bear the weight?!
  2. I finished the big project today, and sent it off. shortly had a mini-meltdown of mood. its not the first time, and this past few weeks i was struck by how often i could feel myself at the top of a hill, spilling downwards like Jill. I couldn’t seem to stop it, and there it was, despair. great hairy balls of fire.
  3. my old college roommate (she’s old, not me) allows me to use her as an accountability partner on these big projects. I let her know each time i zoom past another thousand words. It makes such an enormous difference. really. Lets Hear it for KIM!! RAAAAH!!
  4. i love the winter, the darkness, the safety in staying home. BUT my kids are chafing, so very chafed. pandemica makes me not want them doing anything at all, and i do let them do things, and i have fears that i am killing people by doing this. i both see the irrationality and don’t, so don’t address it with me. the middle starts in-person this week and the eldest in two weeks. i want a complete and total freeze on the old people. no, zero. no.
  5. i made two lasagnas today, because i’ve been worried about my former in-laws. they will get one, yes, my father-in-law claims to love love love them. my mother in law is my best woman ever, and she is going into dementia and it hurts my whole body.
  6. holy fuck kim. i just did math. its been a long damn time.
  7. i’ve decided to suspend rational thought when it comes to men. yes, i have suspicions that mine and their wants are different. but now, i just want to deal with right now. i’m too tired to dwell in suspicion. its a thing i can just let go. i can always live in regret.
  8. tomorrow there will be a new president. and yes, i have been holding my breath for the past few weeks.
  9. all the cups are empty, and they are all over the house. Should i read into this?
  10. my middle kid has requested a peach tree. how damn cool is that? I am looking into it. For real. Peaches in the yard.

i love you guys. i’m really tired.

love love,

me .

Kate in the kitchen


What is in your margins, January?

  1. In response to an Isabel prompt : some of that quote that brought me to my knees last time, what is in your margins, baby? what’re you constantly underlining, again and again, like new every time?

  1. Colors, always colors. I’m downright a.d.d. when it comes to distraction by beauty. Color, shape, the painting I no longer do, the detraction of value from myself for that. Oh. So much. Slight miss, peeled off, scraped off, value gone, value gone. Not creating, not. Scrape, peel, scrape peel, bare walls left. And more, peeled, scraped down to studs. And then what? Where then? Shelter gone. Zero. And wind. The wind blows through. Again. That’s my underline, right there. the biggest one. over and over. manic. manic. manic.
  2. I keep finding these men, these men who really cannot fit a woman into their lives, and I keep thinking of their loss, to lose me, this valueless non-creator, and then I see again that I am so uncertain I can do this all again and I know I use them to distract, like pretty shiny pennies.
  3. Can I live on macaroni and cheese with an occasional tomato thrown in? Is rickets a thing for me now, on this pirate ship of a pandemic house? Am I at sea now, for months at a time, while the kids take their boats out again and again and I am home… rocking in my chair on the waves.
  4. I’m not there anymore, I’m not there anymore, my chant when I wake from the bad dreams. Still, five years out. Anxieties about something so far gone. This brain, and where she roams when I sleep. Poor thing.
  5. I stick my head in the plants. I run my hand through the rice. I light the tree until I feel the itch for space and emptiness . and it itches. And I return to dreaming of painting.
  6. I woke up at four today. I feel pleasure in this, though I acknowledge that my evening will be affected. I have added another thousand words to the work writing and I am so glad and also, sad that there is still so much more to go and I’m running down my timeclock. Sometimes I think I deserve this, this halfass pride in work that I don’t want anyone to read. You know those cheapass romances that you buy for .99 on amazon? That’s me. I write that shit. sometimes. Welcome to the ambivalence. And return.
  7. The potato bugs have moved in, must be the season of… what? Mate? Coldness? They are everywhere. Slow moving creature of prehistory. I love how peacefully we coexist. I’m not sure when we decided we could, but we did.
  8. I keep meeting addicts. I keep finding them, the sharp, the intelligent, the weak, the traumatized. I find them, I love them. I have shifted away from taking them in, housing them, and that’s the change in the margins. Just a color change, same words, but progress. Big.
  9. I understand how deeply I need winter. This return of the cold, the dark. The stay home. Pandemic or no. this is the acorn buried deep. This is the time I understand how to protect my children. Stay. Warm. Socks. Hats. Lights. This is the time I understand.
green acorn
Photo by Eriks Abzinovs on