I’ve been getting some submissions from the “Tumblr After Dark” crowd and, man, it’s amazing—stories of heartache and triumph. For those who’ve shared, thank you. I’ll reply to each of you when I have a moment (except the anons, of course).
I continue this outer mantra and my inner one: I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what I’m doing. They play together like a two-part harmony, a sad dirge about my ineffectualness as a parent.
This past weekend marked the 50th anniversary of the publishing of Where The Wild Things Are. To mark the occasion, here’s a piece I wrote a little while ago for the Huffington Post about an encounter with one of my wild things.