Category: Love note

I wrote a love note about nomading, dating, and leaving Temecula in a hurry. Here’s an excerpt:

Looking for a place to live is a lot like dating, I’m discovering. As a tween, you think, oh, I just want a boyfriend who’s cute and nice! Then your list of must-haves starts growing as you actually start going out with guys, lengthening with requirements you never thought you’d need to explicitly state: Must not drink an entire liter bottle of sake by himself during first date. Must have interests beyond watching YouTube videos. Must ask questions sometimes instead of only talking about himself. Must not litter with impunity. Must not regularly show up 45 minutes late. Must not be racist. Must not be obsessed with werewolves. 

Read the rest here.

This month’s love note is about loneliness and aloneness and Thanksgiving. Here’s an excerpt:

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment my loneliness left me. Maybe its departure was a gradual one, because I only noticed its absence many months after the fact. This was in April or May. I was walking down my tree-lined street in Burbank, greeting familiar masked faces as they passed (with gyms closed, my entire neighborhood turned to long evening walks) when I realized it: For as long as I could remember, I’d been lonely. Now, I no longer was.

Read the rest here.

This month’s love note is about reshaping life and Temecula and CBD gummies and THC sublinguals. Here’s an excerpt:

This year has felt like a sort of purgatory, all of us waiting for life to rebegin again. Yet this year has also felt transformative, all of us rethinking who we are, what we want, how to live — then going for it, fueled by necessity or desire. 

So many friends have changed careers! Moved across the country! Baked up impressive quantities of delicious carbs! Learned things they’d been longing to learn for a long time!

Is nothing happening, or is everything happening?

Read the rest here.

This month’s love note is about death and mountains and guns and Chekhov. It begins thusly:

One evening a few weeks ago, I got lost in the mountains. I was on a road I was pretty sure I’d been on before, but in the post-sunset dark, all the pine trees looked the same. Google Maps wouldn’t work — I’d crossed into an AT&T dead zone. Then my phone died altogether. 

Bears will be out soon, I thought. Meaning I could be dead soon. I started panicking. I broke into a run.

Read the rest here.

Yesterday I drove toward a gigantic fire! Today I’m breathing smoke! More on that, Lake Arrowhead, hiking with friends, and the nomad life in my latest love note.