Inspired by my best friend's most recent blog post, I'll go on to talk about how haunting this whole thing is. The immediacy of January and runoff water from my mother's gutters while the snow melts and thinking of Siobhan in Crown Heights amidst the Caribbean Islanders and Dansko's, about which she is yet undecided. She falls asleep on his lap. He wakes her up at 2am. I spend hours on the phone with a pit in my stomach and an ache in my chest and drool all over the pillow. In terms of the next few weeks, I'll call them a Fade Out. "Tying it all together", or, even, just finishing up.
I read wedding magazines by the handful at composite tables at my aunt's favorite getaway: a strip mall Barnes & Noble. They close at 10 on every day but Sunday (9), and I always wait for the five minutes call before leaving. It takes 10 minutes and 10 miles to get there. Ten, Nine.
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biography %
Stephanie Rhiannon Bird has roots in New England soil. After a most appreciable Catholic Academy education, she moved to the Midwest. She desperately seeks to restore her shoddily-preserved childhood aura. She has thus far spent three years working towards a BFA at The Art Institute of Chicago. She is currently living sometimes in and sometimes nearly in Providence, Rhode Island on the Earth map Atlantic, where she studies juvenescence, children's rights, adventure play, curiosity-propelled education and the necessity for the disestablishment of childhood schooling. She publishes a magazine and writes books. Her favorite style of moccasin to make is Apache.