with Nicole Homer
The last thing that made you smile
A spontaneous dance party with the wee ones over peanut butter crackers and sweet potatoes, loud and mostly defiant of the song’s rhythm.
The last thing you wrote
Notes in the margin of a poem about memory. I think a line from it is going to become an epigraph to a poem I’m struggling with that explores memory and its loss. I’m fascinated by the idea that identity might just be an accumulation of memory because what if we forget? What if through trauma or time or exhaustion we lose a memory that is pivotal to who we are?
Your favourite city
Depends on the day. Lately it’s been New York. I’ve been feeding off of the energy, nonstop movement, and tacos.
What you’d place in a time capsule
My phone, if I could freeze it with all the apps and pictures and headlines in place. Not because it paints a pretty picture of me or of us as people, but because our phones are the most accurate version of ourselves. The curated pictures, the candid ones. The search history. The favorite sites. The articles bookmarked to read for later. The saved podcasts. The playlists. My current level on Candy Crush is such a laughably sad truth about how many lines I’ve stood in and waiting rooms I’ve waited in. The people I care about live in my phone and on the internet so there’s snapshots of us saving each other on a daily basis through memes and hashtags and just plain good advice and harsh truths. And if it’s dug up in the future, it’ll be so adorably quaint and old-fashioned in comparison to what the future has wrought.