Lorraine The Wrighter

Strange Thoughts

  • The Impossibility of Living in a Stream

    I like to take the time to type, tap tap tap tap tap, because the sounds feel nice in my jaw home, at least when my ear isn’t fit to pop. The typing is a challenge. My fingers are clumsy. The fear is true, I’m just a challenger with no direction, but as much as…

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  • Hamlet, My Grandmother, Good Grief

    “I rode on your back / until your knees broke and now / one mile left, I must toss you” – Victoria Chang, Little Soul “There’s the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.” – Hamlet . I have been mad. Have you? My grandmother is dying. I have the privilege of being a caregiver…

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  • Manifesting Silver

    I embarked, half a month ago, on a gratitude practice suggested by a wonderful witch at my favorite crystal shop. Unroll those eyes, it’s my life not yours. I decided to try for myself, a manifestation. “It’s worked by accident before,” I thought to myself, “Shouldn’t it be more likely to work with all my…

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  • Publishing Regret

    I finally published a book. Took me long enough. Took me so long, in fact, that I hate it. A little bit. I don’t hate it. I just don’t like that I used to sound like that. And that my mom is going to read a poem about pointless family conversations over awkward dinners and…

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  • When It Doesn’t

    When the words don’t flow, when the letters don’t dance, I have to turn to a stream and hope for the best. I know we’re short of time because you can click to work with bands in the past (I’m not listening to class, just seeing how they answer questions until I run out of…

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  • Hip Shot

    I had a dream last night that I was being held hostage in a hotel conference room by a certain Russian megalomaniac. The one with his hands where they don’t belong. You know the guy. He was behaving like a mob boss. I suppose that’s really all these “world leaders” are, and what is a…

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  • A Night In a Hotel With My Parents

    Travel is not always what you expect. I did not expect to get drunk with my parents at a Red Lobster in Valencia, at any point in my life. But there I was, drinking a “lobsterita” and thinking about where I’d gotten all this caucasian from. We returned to our shared hotel room. Two queen…

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