Chapin City Blues

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

Sometimes we create fantasies because the reality isn’t worth facing. We create happy marriages when all we think about is running out the door. We glue something broken beyond repair in hopes that things will get better. We do this because the alternative is scarier than what we have. After we split, I spent hours …

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“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 …

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There’s a lot on my mind these days; I don’t need the Covid-19 to muddy the waters. Yet here we are. It’s my birthday and instead of spending it the way I had planned to, I’m here at home typing out this post. There’s panic in the street. People are overbuying, while others are suffering. …

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Is it natural? With every heartbreak, there’s a need to reflect? Maybe it’s just me. A few years ago, I met this woman on an dating app.* We hit it off well. Our first conversation involved a case of mistaken identity. The perfect meetcute for the modern age. Of course, there was a problem. I …

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I started this post last night. Then I backspaced it to oblivion, only to start again. Rinse and repeat until I closed the tab and shut off my computer. Writing hasn’t been coming easy for me, and that famous Bukowski quote echoes through my head: “Don’t try.” While Bukowski speaks to a younger version me, …

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