Journal
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3 Essential Things
What are three objects you couldn’t live without? This question makes it too easy to be a smartass. Water, oxygen, and food – durr. However, I assume – at least I hope – that the author (authors?) of this prompt doesn’t mean it so literally. On a superficial level, I am first and foremost a Continue reading
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“Unzip my body, take my heart out”
I don’t know when I’ll be ready to discuss the events of the last few months on this blog, but it will happen. It’s just the matter of getting the words down right. There’s also the matter of just reflection, you know? There are moments in everyone’s lives that shape them. The cliché is as Continue reading
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Maybe One Day I’ll Be Brave Enough To Tell This Story
Found my college year journal. Post college mostly, since only the first year delved into my college antics. Memory is a funny thing. There’s a section in 2007 where I’m documenting the demise of the relationship. I also mentioned the things that led to it. The break up happened in 2008; on 22 December 2007 Continue reading
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This Will Make Sense Some Day. I Promise.
There’s a LunarBaboon comic I printed out, snipped, and taped into my journal. As of this posting, it’s a fairly recent comic. It got me thinking a lot. About my grandparents. About the campfire stories shared in my youth. About the way, after a good rain and before the humidity began to sauna the world, Continue reading
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The Problem of the Puer Aeternus
My mind is killing me. On the one hand, with Sertraline in my system, my mood’s improved significantly. While scientists haven’t found a cure (to my knowledge) for innate cynicism, I’m not as angry after work as before. Also my dips are spread apart (two since I started taking the pill in March), so that’s Continue reading
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This is My Journal; Please (Do Not) Read it When I’m Gone
“What are you doing?” I ask. We’re in the backroom and R begins to thumb through what most people have come to call my bible. I can’t imagine there is anything of interest written on the quad pages, but these are still my thoughts. My summaries to stories I mean to write. Fragmented essays I Continue reading
Chapin City Blues 