In the last two days I’ve spent four hours in 1995. My journals from then, that is. Sitting for this long with the 21/22-year-old me has been amusing, humbling, and annoying. I am watching myself try to untangle from a relationship long after it had died. I am obsessed with sex. I am watching myself start to connect the circumstances of my life to politics and socioeconomics in a substantive way. There are lots of little details I have both subtle and strong reactions to as I read these journals in my current, 52-year-old, body.

I feel so deep in this project that it’s good to take a breath outside of it. But wanting to keep the momentum going means working on it every single day—for now.

Has this week felt longer to you than the average week? Or is this the cost of spending so much time in my past head(s)?

Two or three newsletters from now I’ll be posting my full list of books read this year. Maybe by then I’ll be transcribing 1999 or 2000.

Thanks for reading.

For those of you in Los Angeles this Friday, December 12th:

Join us as we celebrate the late Kevin Killian’s PADAM PADAM: COLLECTED POEMS. I’ll be reading “Fennel,” “Fuzz,” and “Emerald.” I love saying that out loud.

my books are waiting to be read by you

Thank you for reading Mommy’s El Camino.