Happy 2022, all. I am too lazy to take new photos (those are my late grandparents w me back in the 80s, and a teeny excerpt from a book worth reading called “On Time and Water” by Andri Snær Magnason). But. Thank you for all the birthday wishes. It means so much. I wish you all a 2022 steeped in community and care. 😘😘😘
Happy 2022, all. I am too lazy to take new photos (those are my late grandparents w me back in the 80s, and a teeny excerpt from a book worth reading called “On Time and Water” by Andri Snær Magnason). But. Thank you for all the birthday wishes. It means so much. I wish you all a 2022 steeped in community and care. 😘😘😘
Happy 2022, all. I am too lazy to take new photos (those are my late grandparents w me back in the 80s, and a teeny excerpt from a book worth reading called “On Time and Water” by Andri Snær Magnason). But. Thank you for all the birthday wishes. It means so much. I wish you all a 2022 steeped in community and care. 😘😘😘
Happy 2022, all. I am too lazy to take new photos (those are my late grandparents w me back in the 80s, and a teeny excerpt from a book worth reading called “On Time and Water” by Andri Snær Magnason). But. Thank you for all the birthday wishes. It means so much. I wish you all a 2022 steeped in community and care. 😘😘😘
More Paris pictures:)
More Paris pictures:)
More Paris pictures:)
More Paris pictures:)
More Paris pictures:)
More Paris pictures:)
Thank you, Paris. It was a little bit bonkers:) But it was lovely to see you.
A story about the sun. And leaves.
A story about the sun. And leaves.
A story about the sun. And leaves.
A story about the sun. And leaves.
I talked to Rosenbaum again. If you weren’t sick of me already. We laughed a lot. I told him it’s okay if he does conventions until he’s 75. (Obviously we talked about aging on camera, cuz we’re vain). Please have a watch here 📺 👉bit.ly/watchinsideofyou or listen here https://link.chtbl.com/InsideOfYou_Pod @insideofyoupodcast #insideofyoupodcast @themichaelrosenbaum
It was really nice.
It was really nice.
It was really nice.
It was really nice.
It was really nice.
It is the (technical) beginning of winter in the northern hemisphere. But also, the days now begin to get longer. Which makes me really happy today. I don’t really have any pictures right now. So, you get these🤷🏻♀️
Sorrow Is Not My Name
BY ROSS GAY
No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.
—for Walter Aikens
It is the (technical) beginning of winter in the northern hemisphere. But also, the days now begin to get longer. Which makes me really happy today. I don’t really have any pictures right now. So, you get these🤷🏻♀️
Sorrow Is Not My Name
BY ROSS GAY
No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.
—for Walter Aikens
It is the (technical) beginning of winter in the northern hemisphere. But also, the days now begin to get longer. Which makes me really happy today. I don’t really have any pictures right now. So, you get these🤷🏻♀️
Sorrow Is Not My Name
BY ROSS GAY
No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.
—for Walter Aikens
