old times

soon enough no one will remember that sticky month everything tasted like Christmas Paul’s puddle of blood congealed on rough concrete dropped silverware a clatter of church bells the squall flooding the ash black river James Dean crucified on the ceiling won’t rise again marker tattoos seeping into smooth scars fading slowly

Creating Craziness

I listen to a podcast called Making It with Riki Lindhome.  I have absolutely no interest in ever becoming involved in the entertainment industry.  (Truly.  I feel like lots of people say that but secretly harbor dreams of becoming wildly famous.  To me, the thought of navigating that world is so repulsive it makes me […]

Gratitude Tuesday

Lately, this blog has been a thing that I open and proceed to stare at guiltily…daily.  I struggle to justify my words.  Like John Green’s Gus, “my thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.”  (If you haven’t read The Fault in Our Stars, you probably should.) This evening, like they do every year, my […]