When you have words to say, they’re not meant to be kept in a drawer.
A lot of my recent work from this past year has experienced this doom. They’re not the finest words I’ve produced, but they’re raw, simple, and capture various moments throughout that strange transition seen in 2015 when I first moved to San Francisco and went through a breakup. I like writing nonfiction, and even more so when I accomplish it in less than a page. Say what you need to say and don’t dance around. And it’s no dancing you won’t see with this new book of mine, Rex: Words with a Mechanical Friend, that hit shelves last month!
There are 45 pieces published in this collection, photographed in various places around my apartment where all of them were written. As for Rex, my typewriter, he’s a difficult collaborator when I need him anywhere else and he’s pretty loud– loud where I slow down my typing to a bolero-like patter that takes almost an hour to compose less than half a sheet of words. But he’s made this possible, and there’s just something more endearing about words you’ve written in analog fashion. Typing versus my regular writing is a force of really hitting the notes hard and in one try with everything you say. You can’t go back and rephrase it or fix anything. It’s all there, unforgiving and beautiful– preserved on one page that feels surreal to hold in your hands.
Here’s a few works that you can find in Rex. I’m so proud to be giving them a rightful home here:
Read these and more in Rex, now! Available here for purchase.