Omnivore of the Human Experience
I write about the meaning that comes when we dive headfirst into our grief and joy in equal measures. I seek a life lived at the frothy edges of human experience.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
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- Sep 25, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 16, 2026
Latest issues
nourishment (opens the original)
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In flipping back through an old journal recently, I was reminded that my child’s first official sentence was “Mama cook.” I am grateful I recorded this—you think you will remember every precious thing your kid does when they’re little, but then parenting turns your brain into a sieve—though I failed to include the context for this subject + verb combination, whether it was a request or a declaration. Honestly, either works and both endure.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https:
on memory, meaning, & majors (opens the original)
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A bit of housekeeping: I retroactively added a voiceover to my last Substack post, then promptly contracted the back-to-school crud which means my throat is now scratchy and I cannot record this post without coughing profusely. My apologies! Fingers crossed I can get myself sorted over the weekend. One more note about my previous post; I also added a brief bibliography at the end, consisting of books that have been meaningful to me during my chronic pain (I cringe as I say it) journey. If you or
trevor (opens the original)
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Update: voiceover added after-the-fact and reading this post aloud made it apparent that it is not my sharpest or well-edited piece of writing. I made some minor changes for clarity but let the rest stand as an authentic representation of what my brain could do on those pain days. If you are interested in reading other authors on chronic pain, I’m also adding a personal “pain bibliography” to the end of this post. I wrote this post on a plane yesterday and I am now posting it from a farmhouse in
about the author (opens the original)
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Listen to me read this post here:I am an earnest person. Always have been, always will be. A woman I knew in graduate school, a poet with kind eyes and a new baby, told me that she felt my voice was “unabashedly emotional” and urged me to stay true to it. I have those words, in her handwriting, tacked above my desk.I tend toward overstatement, pushing too hard, “doing too much,” as my teenage daughter says. My worst faults—areas for growth, let’s say—are defensiveness, a bit of preachiness, and
july is for feelings (opens the original)
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Hello all - I am happy to be writing to you, grateful that you stick with me despite my lack of regular posting schedule. My desire is to shed the self-consciousness I feel about being a writer with chronic pain, to stop worrying that references to my condition will come across as self-indulgent or annoying, and to be able to simply share what I can, when I can, and to let that be enough. I can feel myself moving toward this, but it’s a continual process of unhooking, akin to walking through bra
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