Jess Dutschmann's Tumblr
Jess's Blog, Jess's Twitter.

“Can’t Wait To Get Back!” Since our whole family is in love with Paula Deen, it seemed only logical to stay in her cottage. We all love to cook and have never stayed anywhere with a kitchen so well equipped. There was even a working Easy Bake oven for our little ones. It was an easy walk/bike ride to the beautiful beach and the weather could not have been better. We took advantage of the gas grill at the cottage and celebrated our daughter’s birthday during our stay. The Kitchenaid stand mixer was a great surprise and really helped her cake come out perfect. This will be a regular vatcation for our family!

devil in the

the only reason i tolerate

the idea of numbers stations

is because of yankee hotel foxtrot

which is a really good album

wilco made it

I was in chicago once

and saw the cover of this album 

(a parking deck but a very pretty one)

but really

come on

agree: numbers stations are terrifying

listening makes you feel

like a little kid screaming about a dead bird (caged, too)

in the port authority bus station

illness

Sometimes means ‘awesomeness’, like the times spent with friends that you don’t think you’ll remember, but then you do, sweetly and without needing to mine Facebook for photos.

But not always, sometimes the fever comes to get you and Market Street crawls upwards into a foggy sky that he warned you about, but you told him he was lying, that the fog wasn’t real. 

There maybe at the apex but maybe slipping down the other side of the road with your car bottoming out and you screaming is where your veins were lit like electric coils on hot plates, where your brain wanted to throw you out, where you woke up sweating and contagious. 

science

Having seen past the veil, into the 400,000 years of history we haven’t found yet, the suitcase unopened but really opened, I’m excited. I thought about this in the car with you today. My heart fluttered when I thought of the big nothing, how weird nothing is to think about. Everyone answers ‘nothing’ when someone asks if something’s wrong, and truth is, they aren’t lying, I don’t think. Nothing is wrong because someone opened their mouth to ask, someone created a little warm space for the mind to rest in, a nest, a suitcase with nothing outside it.

We’d tried to ignore what was happening,

while it was happening, but it was
too late for us by the time
we had all gotten sick.
Yellow eyes in the woods watched us.
We tried to ignore them while
cocooned into plastic
comforters girls heaved
up the hill earlier in the night
in plastic bags and sat by the campfire.
I know we’re sick, I know, just stay still, please, please.

When I managed to fix a couple things I came back to you and showed you the nails I’d forgotten to put in. “It’s alright, they’ll fit somewhere else, it’s alright, nothing’s got to be perfect,” You were hugging me from behind in front of a mirror, I could feel you wedge your way into my spine,