Object permanence + the lyric possibilities of tattoos

Plus a gut check on ideas for a fall workshop with Black Lawrence Press

Something permanent. To keep Finney close as I write. The dogwood tree in our yard was in full bloom the day we said goodbye.

This letter is a collage: one part raw material from an essay that’s not coming together, one part a recent video I thought you might like as much as I did, and one part a quick question for you about an upcoming workshop.

If I opened a tattoo studio, I’d call it Object Permanence.
Grief has been a visitor this summer. I got my first tattoo recently in memory of Finney, and then a couple days later, my dad was in a serious car accident. He’s recovering, but it was another close call with a guy who is already the king of close calls. I’ve been trying to write something about object permanence and neurodivergent grief (at least my flavor of it) and overstimulation and the fear of forgetting the things and people that really matter to you.

The little essay keeps bombing. Hard. Because I’m still close to all this. Because object permanence is kind of an inside joke, if you’re aware of reality beyond popular ADHD symptom lists. Because I’m tired, probably.

So instead of forcing it any more, here are some lines from the raw material, in a random order (what is order anyway?):

• Tattoos are a fixed spot in both space and time. Pretty quickly after Finney’s death, I realized I needed something equally as permanent as Finney’s permanent absence.

• Out of sight, out of mind: the heirloom tomates so carefully chosen at the farmers market, rotting in the hidden corner of the kitchen, where I had accidentally moved them.

• The longer I try to understand what my ADHD means in practice (both the who I am and the how I am), the more these oversimplifications show how brittle they are, how limited and limiting. I find myself testing grief against oversimplifications.

• My eyes fly open and I realize it’s another day and my dad is still here, and then I immediately hear the correction yes, today, but one day not.

• There’s a bias toward perennial impermanence in my sense of time. Usually, after I’ve been through the initial trap of grief, the ones I most love live in that timeless, vast space. My dead grandparents are in some ways more real and more present to me now that they’re not here on the plane of linear time. In some ways, it feels more natural to have a relationship with them now. We are off the clock, you could say.

• For a time, I secretly used a friendship management app to track when I last spoke to people, dates that were important to them, and when I would need a reminder to check in again. But then—much like the idea of object permanence itself—the app started to feel like such an oversimplification of friendship, so I gave up on it.

• For me, the memory problem isn’t just a matter of where things and people are in space (as in: out of sight = out of mind). For me, it also has something to do with the nature and experience of time.

• I like the thought that I’m just trying to stay toe-to-toe with death, but maybe it’s more like what I admitted to Carl a couple nights ago: you know, how I like to bludgeon myself with my feelings sometimes.

• Tattoos are a fixed spot in space and time, a temporary bludgeoning to make something permanent.

• I get mad that I’m rushing the meaning-ness.

• I don’t judge myself when I write too long. I judge when I write too soon.

So many craft essays try to define what a lyric essay is or isn’t, when all we really needed was this video from Adam Savage. So many diversions! So many little revelations along the way! So much enthusiasm for following the thread! I’ll be rewatching this whenever I can go back into the wilderness with my book project.

Can you give me a quick gut check/curiosity check?
I’m leading a writing workshop this fall with the wonderful Black Lawrence Press, and I have two ideas brewing. These will be poetry-focused, but the possibilities I’ll share could also be a fit for essay and memoir writers:

• More than Vibes: Revising Your Poems for Mood + Muchness

• Here I Am: Experiments in Provoking Your Poem’s Speaker

And save the date if you’re interested! The workshop is happening on November 14 at 8 pm ET. It will be virtual and open to all.