listening to love
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Erin Slade
The Méxican Navy marching band practices several mornings a week near a local elementary school. I fall into step with the drums on my way back from the swimming hole. They are slowly slowly improving, coalescing into uniform pitches and tones. I admire their tenacity. I, too, have been practicing something difficult, though I used…
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BellaMar
“I am myself. I am singular.” —Faerie queen in Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett 30 months in and I’m still surprised that I live on a boat. High and dry at the moment, but still in a sea-going vessel. “Ridiculous!” I laugh. Life is a twisty-turny adventure, that’s for sure. Habibi was recently…
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Love Story
Up late last night, working on a book of stories and splashes (art). Who knew that living in a boatyard could be so productive? Shoulda hauled out long ago… Here’s an excerpt from “Love Story:” Our hands speak another language, independent of the kissing language. Our hands are chatterboxes, always commenting, caressing, caroming from hill…
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Wild Swimming
Evidently there’s a name for what I do: wild swimming, though I seem to be wilder than most. I usually swim without other humans; I don’t tow a brightly colored buoy; I meander, depending on the residents in view. Yesterday a big school of 2-3’ silvery stunners circled me in the dappled morning light, and…
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Epiphany
Tuesday night, about 8 o’clock, one of the so-called security guards knocked on Habibi’s hull. He’s a big beefy guy whom I greet as I greet everyone: friendly, but not social. I was already in bed, lights out, and did not answer. I’m in an isolated part of the boatyard and my neighbors were gone.…
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Shoulds are for Saints
It’s out! Shoulds are for Saints: the true life adventures of Suzy Le Speed has finally been published. She sprang to life in college, got derailed, then surfaced again and again. Shoulds is a quirky, non-formulaic P.I. novel. Funny feminist fiction for fans of Rita Mae Brown, Linda Barnes, and Susan Isaacs. Set in 1980s…
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Bing
“And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again,” crows Mr. Crosby every single morning this week. “Is that true?” I asked my mother when I was ten. “Don’t you want us around?” It was a shock. Isn’t everyone happy to be together during the holidays? Are there parents who don’t like…
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Suzy Le Speed
It is so nice not to feel desperate. Hackles lie down and rest awhile. Misery is merely a habit. Buoyed by the recent publication process, I am prepping my P.I. novel for same. The joy I feel is comparable to playing with Emmett, back in the day—pure, unadulterated happiness. Here’s a slice of Shoulds are…
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Delfinas
The panga zoomed up as I was exiting the water, the guys pretending to look for fish. I quickly wrapped a sarong around the swimsuited Bod, and turned away. All I want for Xmas is a private, secluded swimming hole. Is that too much to ask? Evidently. Better fix the boat sooner rather than later…
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Light My Fire
A short-haired dog the color of pale fire trotted up to me as I ambled home from the ocean this morning. Tawny gold from head to toes, she wagged her tail and gazed up at me in a friendly, expectant manner. Do you have something for me? And actually, I did. I stopped and pulled the…
essays by shé 