Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

“It’s complicated,” she whispered softly the other night. Several nights ago. And I never knew what that meant all those nights ago. In these sleepless nights, I stare at the oblivion unraveling before me. The darkness has crept in, hasn’t it? And I understand what she meant. “Why do some people insist on staying in …

Continue reading

I should be doing something. I have the whole day off and all I’ve managed is to go back to sleep after dropping Shaun off at school. I’ve also watched several minutes of Tik Tok videos. I blasted through two hours of watching YouTube. On my bed, lies my journal, my Dungeon Master’s Guide, and …

Continue reading

Never been the spoken wordsmith. These things take time, I suppose. There was a plan, and the plan didn’t pan out. Not like I could say anything before the trip, and after it just felt too cliche. It’s a practice, getting the right words down. As a child, I practiced every syllable in the mirror. …

Continue reading

Mornings aren’t any easier. Thirty-five years old, still trying to make sense of the world. On more than one occasion, adulthood has felt like a child playing dress up. Wondering when it’s suppose to set in. Wondering why it’s even a struggle to comprehend the roles we’re given. Punch in the numbers. Punch in the …

Continue reading

“Maybe you should try being alone for a bit,” she said at the end of it all. It’s true. Chasing others occupied most of my adolescent and post-adolescent lives. A syndrome inherited from someone who preached my importance was measured by those who loved me. The three-year road leading to this peace of mind was …

Continue reading