Hi, I’m Meg Simon. By day I’m a librarian, by night whatever nightthoughts bring, weekend warrior never stop working, don’t stop believing in [blank], in breathing, while my kid climbs the back of my jeans to my knees and begs me Up! Up!
I don’t post as much as I used to, which is to say I don’t write, don’t take out my camera they put in my phone so I have no excuse now. I was born late 1980. Sometimes I’m roped into millennials, other times dangling in Generation X, and that’s what it feels like, both and neither, left behind, dragged along, adrift.
I miss, though. Am remiss. When I don’t document, don’t reflect, pile up words then put them in order, give them grit to give me face, and I don’t mean Instagram dinner plates. Tidy tweets in traffic. I mean the deepsicks. Allda way down.
I’ve laid my bones in all kinds of places—Fargo, Vancouver, Minneapolis—and currently live in Austin, Texas, with my mister Arthur, young son Lucien, the best dogs ever, rocks with holes and house plants and roiling heat.
These are a few of my favorite things
large bodies of water
piles of garbage
the sides of buildings
places I shouldn’t be