I wrote a story for mental_floss this week on a subject very close to my heart (and the rest of my body): coping with chronic illness.
Check it out if you get a chance: Cuddly Guts Bring Comfort to the Chronically Ill
photograph: I Heart Guts
You may have figured this out by now, but if you haven't: I got a job at mental_floss!
What does this mean?
A lot more weird science stories.
Like this one:
Bloodsucking Fish Rain from the Sky in Alaska
and this one:
Clams Are Giving Each Other Cancer
Also: are you on Twitter? I'm on Twitter. It took me a while to come around, but now that I have, I love it.
Also also: Thanks for reading.
I grew up loving Woody Allen--not just the movies, but the man. Over the last year, I've renegotiated that relationship. My essay on Sweet and Lowdown is in the June "Dilemmas" issue of Bright Wall/Dark Room magazine.
You can read it here.
by Mary Oliver
As I said before, I am living now
in a warm place, surrounded by
mangroves. Mostly I walk beside
them, they discourage entrance.
The black oaks and the pines
of my northern home are in my heart,
even as I hear them whisper, "Listen,
we are trees too." Okay, I'm trying. They
certainly put on an endless performance
of leaves. Admiring is easy, but affinity,
that does take some time. So many
and so leggy and all of them rising as if
attempting to escape this world which, don't
they know it, can't be done. "Are you
trying to fly or what?" I ask, and they
answer back, "We are what we are, you
are what you are, love us if you can."
photograph by Barbara Fernandez
In February, I started writing weekly science articles for mental_floss.
I'll be doing that for as long as I can, because I love it, and I get to write about things like pooting. And pooping.
I've also got two articles in the May issue of mental_floss (the magazine), which should be on newsstands soon.
You can find a constantly-updating list of my articles here.
art by Daniel Downey
The Art of Disappearing
by Naomi Shihab Nye
When they say Don't I know you?
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
If they say We should get together
It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
art by Danna Ray
Labels: other people's poetry