About a week ago I got a surprise email from Lisa asking me to participate in a blog meme. I love Lisa's blog, and I love Lisa. We met in June 2010 at both our first VONAs, and have remained friends since. I love her art and her writing and her sewing and and. Lisa is talented in a … Continue reading Being A Writer with a Mental Illness
The yellow highlighter I was using before. Its diameter, the thickness of my thumb. Smooth and slick. I turn it around in my hand, putting it between my fingers as one would a cigarette. My fingers travel up the round thick barrel to the cover. The cover feels smaller and grooved like a small version of a churro. It sits atop the round barrel. I tug at it. It comes off easily and falls to the ground rolling away towards a cushion. It stops at the edge of the red silk cushion lying next to the pen. The red silk cushion beckons to me. I reach for the cushion, accidentally jabbing it with the highlighter forgetting it was uncapped. I suck air through my teeth for the second time as I drop the highlighter and reach for the stained red silk cushion. It slips out of my reach.
She was a first year PhD student from another school a few miles away in Nsukka, who was considering transferring to my school in Enugu. I flashed my award-winning smile at her and pulled out a chair for her at the table my friend, Chinukwe, and I were seated at. "Welcome." I said. Chinukwe, quite … Continue reading Amakka-Part I
Sitting out on 1390 Market Street Plaza two Sundays ago reminded me of the many times I have walked Market. I also could not help but think of my friend Maseilla. See, she lived off Market down near the Castro, and I rode the F-Market there often. I preferred the F to any of the … Continue reading 1390 Market Street, San Francisco, CA