I can’t help but to wonder: Am I ready?

The whole world is experiencing an extraordinary, difficult and dangerous time.  I can’t help but to wonder: Am I ready to die?  A journal entry from August 2013 Is it ok to die today? Would I run into Mamma and Pappa’s arms? Would I be at torpet: my childhood summer house? Would there be flowers and yellow…

I get this ways sometimes.

Ever get this way? Staring at your to do list, and not moving? Feels like a slow bleed, but the blood is flowing backwards causing a brain sting. I get this ways sometimes. Trying to figure out too many things and struggling with feeling useless and unproductive, even strangely irresponsible, yet knowing I deserve just…

Potato Nose Diaries (1977): Instalment 5- They don’t know what it is.

    Previously on PND: Instalment 1: Introduction Instalment 2: The First Entries Instalment 3: Do Tendu Jetés en Balance Instalment 4: Sex Education Today’s instalment:     © Katarina Thorsen 2018

I can feel the planet churning…

And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul. – John Muir When I am in the forest in Stanley Park, and sit down on the forest floor, I am acutely aware that I am on a sphere.  In fact, I swear that I can feel the planet churning.  I place…

What if memories are allies?

Researching a seemingly unrelated subject tonight, I was thrown down into a pit of dark memory of betrayal and attack to my heart.  How strange to be reminded of that time, of that sickening anger. How strange to have to grab my own hand and pull myself out of the pit– real quick– for it…

Journal entry April 16, 2018 San Jose Airport

Journal entry April 16, 2018 San Jose Airport [unedited] It is so odd to take time out from the trajectory of every day in these journeys… to get off the tracks so to speak.  The experience both relaxes the brain, and creates unease.  You feel like you spend too much money and you are wondering about…

When public goes private, do I lose you?

When public goes private, do I lose you? I am so used to sharing my creative process openly– and now I find myself in a new state of being, where in order to discuss and develop the project further, I have to stop sharing it. This is all exciting and unreal– so why do I…

Homework- writer’s group: close your eyes…

Journal entry: If I close my eyes, what age do I go back to? Usually I go back to age six. But today as I close my eyes, I am 22, alone, crying, New Year’s Eve, 1984.  Though— not quite alone.  I am pregnant with Anna.  I am scared, crying, in a fetal position on the…

My narrative.

Something new is brewing.   This new thing will require that I dig deeper, reveal more and share some things previously unshared.   But in order to do that– I need to prepare… Wait.   Hold on… [—–] I just deleted a massive amount of verbosity and ramblings. I don’t need to PREPARE.  I am…

Perhaps I am simply an explorer.  Not seeking answers…

I sit on the 23, heading home… leaning my head against the window.  The bus is full.  It’s damp outside and damp inside.  I have a seat, a warm seat on the left side- I always get a seat as I always get on at the first stop.  No need to anticipate and worry about…

More than kisses, letters mingle souls… and I am not your fault.

This past weekend, my sweet friend from university days gave me a bunch of letters I had written to her around 1984-86. Fascinating look into my “reality” then.  I put reality in quotation marks.  It is so painful and funny (and relieving that I survived) as I see “through the sunny cellophane of which not very appetizing frustrations…