no one knows about it

Jared and I went back to the desert last weekend, together this time. And with our fuzzy beasts. The amazing thing about Utah is that it has five national parks, myriad state parks, and then places like this, that are what I imagine the Grand Canyon looks like, that are just BLM land, and you can crawl all over it with your dogs, and camp right on the edge of the canyon and no one is there, because no one knows about it.


There was something Mary said in an email yesterday, “We took the trolley tour in Savannah, we went to the beach with the dog, we went bowling. It was a trip we couldn't afford, but aren't those always the best ones?” that made me think about something.

I’ve been on a creative binge lately. I wake up and start writing. I write in my journal, then I work on a story, or this video I’m working on that I’m creating a kind of prose sestina for, then I think of a story that would be good to look at, so I read for an hour, and by two I’m still in my pajamas. And then I turn on the phone and listen to my messages and make vows to myself to call people back later, and then answer a couple emails, and vow to answer the others later, and then take a shower, and then get to work, late. And it’s the slow season at work, so I’m not making enough money to cover my expenses this month, so there’s this financial urgency hanging over my head. But I think, maybe, I’m turning the financial urgency into creative urgency. It feels hard to admit it, because if I say it out loud, or write it, I feel like I’ll have to stop. But it feels like grace. Like I’m sneaking grace.