Author Archives: YoungOfBlood

Meditations of the Male-Adjacent

  When coming down the coast of Ireland toward county Clare nature begins to explode. It feels wild, the flora effusing between crofts of rock, stone walls consumed, nature reclaiming, a rocky embrace. Mustard flowers populate the landscape, punctuating verdant green in vibrant contrast; purple flowers, Queen Anne’s lace, Jupiter’s Beard, rust hued reeds. Brambles […]

Emanation

There is a quietude here punctuated by guided tours. Questions the tour guide can’t answer. “Can you read the lanterns?” “Do the placement of the chairs at this family altar hold any significance?” “What do the octagon shapes represent? Any symbolism?” I am shoehorned in the corner. Merged with the tour for the duration of […]

Self Portrait

Kentucky I’d walk for hours in dappled light, following gentle curves of narrow roads, their asphalt edging sharply into dirt, then grass. Green shivering as cars drove by, and I huddled near to its softness. The air, more often than not, was heavy and placid. Warm and warming, I’d wade through it, pause, as if […]

Dualism

My left leg slightly limping, I pass through an unseasonably warm March evening looking over my shoulder for foxes. I feel like easy prey. From afar the skilled hunter can tell that I am weakened. That a misstep on my part could mean a feast for them. I pass through the night an easy target. […]

On Spaghetti in Western and Japanese

Richard Brautigan and Haruki Murakami write about spaghetti a lot. To them it seems a lonely task. A gentle boil with a simple means to an end kind of task. I find I usually make spaghetti alone. When the house is quiet and the only sound is a water droplet shivering in anticipation of falling […]

Anomalous Phenomena

Chicken Little’s prophesy is coming true: “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” This is not sensationalism. This is not media hysteria. This is not a drill. This is not the boy who cried wolf. This is surrealism as reality. This is dream in waking life. I thought I saw a lady floating to […]

Conversations Written on the Body

I’m sitting in a cafe after a long day of retail, drinking a beer and reading Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, pouring over passages that ring truth in me despite my experience as a Caucasian female in her early thirties. The passages I read bring me to tears. My reading is disrupted by […]