Once, somewhere in this world, not long ago and not far from where you are reading this, it was the middle of the night on a quiet block in a city of canyons. Everyone who lived in the tall brick apartment buildings that lined either side of the street was asleep. Sleeping children. Sleeping grownups. … Continue reading Andes Mint #27: Chapter One
Excerpt from “The Painted Drum” – a novel by Louise Erdrich Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here … Continue reading Andes Mint #26: Poem of the Week (novel excerpt), by Louise Erdrich
Zip codes in which you have lived: 13354, 02114 (past), 55408 (current), and 05346 (also current). Apartments: six. Houses: four. Bathroomless one-room cabins in Dummerston, Vermont: one. Children, two of whom are now as tall or taller than you: three. Neurotic cats: one. Hyper dogs who remain meth-head-like no matter how much you exercise them: … Continue reading Andes Mint #25: By the Numbers
Free donut holes, my friends, free donut holes! Available at the Red Balloon Bookshop on Grand Avenue in St. Paul, tomorrow morning (August. 10) at 10:30, when I’ll be reading that new little book over to there to the left. “The Case of the Missing Donut.” Stop by and say hi if you’re in town. … Continue reading Free Donut Holes!
“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,” says poet Mary Oliver, “the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting. . .” I was 18 when my parents drove me over from the Adirondacks and delivered me and my belongings to college. I remember watching them drive … Continue reading Andes Mint #24: The World Offers Itself to You
This mint is adapted from one in the archives, because at around one last night I realized that it was no longer dark-gray Monday but mustardy-chamois Tuesday, and I started thinking about synethesia all over again. From a question in Padgett Powell’s book of questions: “If you could assign colors to the days of the … Continue reading Andes Mint #23: Synesthesia
You’re the keeper of a tiny house on a hill in the woods in Vermont. The house is one room, 11′ x 19′, with a tiny sleeping loft and a tiny porch. At first there was just land. Over the years –quite a few them at this point– you added electricity, tunneled up in a … Continue reading Andes Mint #22: Off the grid dabblement