I’m drinking from the belly of a doe I just tore up. I like chewing on the fleshy parts just underneath the fur, it is elastic and keeps me preoccupied. The aroma of blood, the dissipating essence of death has already left her.
In the distance, I hear a growl. Not from an animal but something else. Something I had forgotten. There is a grinding and a roar, it’s getting closer.
I rip some meat off the doe’s thigh and run toward my shelter about a mile away.
It’s trucks.
A whopping sound above belonging to a bulbous metal thing, the blades spin in a circle, keeping it afloat. Helicopter, that’s right. They had those in the city.
The men used them to hunt for other men.
They must be looking for the body I left in the boulders. I had forgotten all about it.
I picked up his body and hauled him deeper into the woods. I can smell his blood still, it’s left a trail I’m sure the cougar and maybe a wandering bear will pick it up soon.
I threw him in between the crevices along the jagged boulders that line the river heading north where there is snow year-round, where there aren’t any men, no humans up there. It will take a while before he is picked clean by the things that live in the rocks but it is a good place for him.
If anyone comes looking for him, it will be difficult to get him out, whatever is left. Giving me time to flee if needed even though I don’t want to leave my home. The forest has been my home for so many seasons, I’ve forgotten how many.
In front of the Chinatown public library, I look across the street at a garage and the Transamerica Pyramid poking out from behind.
Depending on your positioning, the slant of the hill, the gaps between passing cars at intersections, and the weather, it’s possible to gain new perspectives on iconic buildings and the Bay Bridge. These are the views I’ve been searching for for the past few months.
A cable car on Powell Street grinds by heading southward. A slight burning odor hits me when it passes; a mixture between metal and oil I still can’t figure out.
Since the start of the new year, I’ve read more, written here and there, and thought about a few poems I’ve yet to scribble down. It’s all been swimming in my head as I balance starting a new job, spring cleaning, and upcoming birthdays. And it’s already April. How did that happen? Lately, it’s felt like time slips by faster, and I’m left trying to catch up.
I walk south on Powell Street. Nag Champa floats in the air by the Buddhist and Taoist Association building, and I take deep breaths to get as much of it as possible.
The sky is blue with a few clouds, but they’re moving fast, so it might change to gray skies and a slight rainy mist. Riding out all the atmospheric rivers and turbulent winds in the city these past few weeks, I’ve been calmly waiting for Spring. I want a sunny hot day to go to the beach and read.
There are plenty of current events to talk about, but I’m somewhere between exhaustion and nausea every time I try to write about any of it lately.
I keep running out of time to process the most recent mass shooting before another one happens. As hateful rhetoric spreads and takes hold in multiple states, as reproductive rights are stripped away, and as fascism continues to grow – I worry about the future.
How can I write about it all? How can I process what’s happened in the U.S. in the past few years? I’m struggling to grasp how other writers have done it.
So I take moments to look at the city, I take moments to sit and eat lunch in a park, I take moments to read a book at cafes I haven’t been to before, I take moments of peace because I’m not sure how many of them I’ll have in the future.
I make it to California Street and hear the rhythmic grating of another cable car, this one coming up the hill and heading north. Small groups of tourists, families, and couples crowd near the stops on the street corners, waiting to jump on.
Crossing the street, I glance at the Bay Bridge down below, framed by the layered buildings downtown. It’s unbelievably beautiful.
Over my shoulder, the Transamerica Pyramid is hidden by a strip of grayish clouds; the ever-present giant I imagine to be a hybrid symbol (modern and ancient) of longevity for the city. I hope through it all; it’ll continue to stand.
It’s a quiet Sunday morning, and our Boston Terrier, Nora, is in a deep sleep. Curled up on the bed, her eyes twitch, and she huffs and gives a little bark. What’s she dreaming about?
The window is open, and the brisk 50-something air creeps into our apartment. It hasn’t rained in more than a week, and I’ve been enjoying my second chilly yet sunny winter in San Francisco. I’ve been taking long walks in North Beach and Chinatown, and last week took Clay Street all the way to the Ferry Building, where I hung out and read by the water. I can’t say it enough, I love this city.
Now as 2022 is easing into 2023, I’m hoping next year won’t be as chaotic. Approaching the third-year anniversary of the Pandemic and I can’t help but feel like I’m wedged somewhere between whiplash and a gnarly hangover.
It’s not even ten in the morning but I’ve already gone to store and stocked up on groceries for the week. I’m sit with my cup of cold green tea wondering if I should take a stab at writing 1,600 words of my new novel today (about 2/3rds done) or if I should try to scribble out a poem or two. But honestly, I want to read.
I’ve been reading constantly for the past few weeks, blasting through a few 300-something-page novels, and catching up on the most recent issues of Poetry Magazine. My reading goal for 2022 was to read 25 books, I’m behind, but it’s not as bad as I would’ve thought (18 books read). It’s an itch I need to scratch, and I know I could spend the next few hours getting lost in a book or two. What am I reading?
What are my plans for the holidays? Staying home, writing, and reading more books. I’ve settled into a nice rhythm with reading, and I feel like I could quickly begin reading as much as I did in college (4-5 books a month).
This slow winter month feels like a gestation period. I’m thinking of new ideas and trying to wrap up chapters of my NaNoWriMo22 novel (no, I didn’t finish it by November 30th, and that’s alright). There’s been a lot of progress and I feel like I’m levelheaded enough to take on a big project or even start an online course on top of everything else I’m doing.
Recent obsessions? Cooking. I’ve been watching a few shows and would love to take a class, really learn how to properly chop up vegetables would be helpful.
Nongshim Shin Ramyum cooked with baby bok choy and a handful of sliced white mushrooms and topped with an over-easy egg.
What am I drinking? Wassail and gin.
While I’m not reading, working, or deep in a writing jaunt, I’m listening to music a few hours a day.
What am I listening to this week? Here’s a link to my SF Dec(ember) 2022 playlist. Some old and some new stuff but really it’s a certain atmosphere that I’m going for when I’m putting together a monthly playlist.
Are you writing or reading anything fun? I want to know. Leave a comment below!
Thank you for reading, and I wish you Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!
NaNoWriMo2022 is over this year! But not for me. I’m still going, and I hit over 30k words this week. The pressure has dissipated, and I’ll work at my own pace. I want to take my time with this novel, and there are a few plot points I’m still dissecting.
What else have I been up to? Reading and then reading some more…
I finished Book #3, A Court of Wings and Ruin of Sarah J. Maas’s series A Court of Thorns and Roses. Again, the fantastical all-powerful flying Fae are sometimes hard to grasp. There are moments where cheesy dialogue and scenes ooze with over-the-top romantic idealization to the point where the series could be immolating itself. I like this series because it’s one of the things I read in my downtime, like watching junk TV or indulging in a Bachelorette episode for laughs.
And I also started Book #2 of The Scholomance series by Naomi Novik. I’m not entirely sure why I’m doing this to myself again (another odd bit is that one of my favorite authors, Holly Black, wrote a short recommendation on the back of this book, which is perplexing).
Yes, I complained about Book #1 of The Scholomance series a lot in my Goodreads review. Honestly, my distaste for it inspired me to keep reading. There may be some sick version of myself who wants to see it improve or at least some radical character development and plot twists. Still, just like Maas’s books, I’m reading this like I’d watch some mind-numbing TV, but the difference is I actually like Maas’s series.
What am I listening to? Spotify’s “Early Alternative” playlist.
What else am I doing? I’m working on a few social media templates for my Etsy shop, The Happy Poet Studio. I also plan on going out in the city to get more shots for my IG @alinahappyhansen.
While all this is happening, I’m working and scribbling down a few words to count toward my daily goal of 3k words (unrelated to my novel writing).
My plans for week six? I want to write 5k words and wrap up the story’s climax. Did you participate in NaNoWriMo? How’d it go? Leave a comment below or HMU on nanowrimo.org; my username is alinahappyhansen ?
