I'm sitting here, belly full of pho, smoking, watching the first season of Def Poetry on DVD for the god knows how manyieth time, lusting after Mos Def, and thinking about how I'll make good on a midnight promise to, in 2005, get back to the boogie down, to New York. It's time. I need to regroup, soak in reminders of where I come from, and drink ( Read more... )

Oh New Year's Eve, I see you there, peaking round the corner at me. My plans for you are always last minute and this year shall be no different. I'll weigh the options, then decide on none of them ( Read more... )

I don't, can't, and won't overdo Christmas. I don't have the energy, means, or desire. But I do give a few, quietly thought out, silently executed gifts to a few key people in my life ( Read more... )

The type of tired I'm feeling evades easy categorization. I've been living my life in ten-minute increments of solitude and rest--10 minutes here, 10 minutes there, skating, drinking, and crafting holiday gifts that will be late anyway in between ( Read more... )

The second annual Rocky Mountain Roller Girl Spanking Booth. A fundraiser in photos.
( See it to believe it... )

How I spent my 30th. A photo essay.
( On the picture show... )

I've been living my only moments worthy of reflection amid a codeine-induced haze. Diagnosed with whooping cough, I took a stack of prescriptions to the drug store and left with enough medication to last me through two more colds, which is really all I think I have. Bronchitis is a possibility, but a fellow roller girl/immunology student confirmed ( Read more... )

I saw what I thought was a giant maraschino cherry on wheels splayed out on the skating rink about two seconds before I collided with it. I didn't have a chance to jump it, and my attempt to stop (by way of crashing into a wall) failed so I closed my eyes milliseconds before hitting the ground, hoping that when I opened them, the cherry would be ( Read more... )

Poking my head above ground in my first week of being (I didn’t say acting) 30, I find things not quiet as bleak as I had originally thought they’d be. Against my expectations of crow’s feet and worry lines, last week’s festivities kicked off a decade signaling if not eternal youth, at least a lot of fun during the decade leading up to “the next ( Read more... )

I spent the greater portion of last night pumping up the double-wide version of an air mattress with the world's smallest foot pump. Eventually, I imagined The Stormtrooper going slowly crazy by way of each foot's thud on the wood floor above her head (like Chinese water torture, only louder) and gave up my fruitless efforts. By that point, the ( Read more... )