It's Good To Break Open

I've been in Mississippi for a few days with a small band of merry bloggers: Deb, Laurie, and Jett.


I left my Saskatchewan city, dull and grey, filmed over in lumpy ice, and I was glad to go. It's an ugly place made uglier with each new development. It forces human detachment as a survival technique.

morning curtains

I'm not going to lie. I came to Mississippi with an agenda. I was looking to come clean a bit, scrub myself up. I felt an anxiety ground in deep like a fevered sweat.

rust bucket

Did you know that I'm funny? I'm funny. And these ladies I'm with? They're funny, and we've spent this entire weekend laughing our damn heads off. We laughed even when we thought the bumper was falling off the van and when we couldn't find where we were going and after the tears about the sad shit we can't always change.

old car, inside

And, as is my usual thing after connecting with my people, I have the urge to burn all my world down, commit a drastic general cleansing, and wander like a nomad, dragging my yurt behind me.

bottle tree

Last night I dreamt that I called some men to load up all of my furniture into the back of a truck. They took it all away, and I swept all my bare floors and sat down on the hardwood and revelled in how uncomfortable it was, because it meant that I didn't have to carry all that ugly stuff on my shoulders anymore.


It feels good to have these thoughts. It feels good to want to kick everything down. It feels good to be a scratched seed.

old flag

It's good to break open. It's good to want to empty everything out. It's good to write it on the walls.

Faulkner's story notes on his office walls

It's good, it's good, it's good.

tree at Rowan Oak

I'm going to miss these ladies in our Mississippi shack.

Me at Aiming Low: 400 Words About Things I Love

Good Morning, Mississippi!