Chapin City Blues

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

“Shaun thinks she’s your girlfriend,” she said. “Just something to think about.” I. In the parking lot of some fast food joint—maybe it’s Dairy Queen or Whataburger, but the details are foggy; this was nearly five years earlier—I walk out with a girl and her son. As she puts him in his car seat, I …

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In the seventh grade, I fell in love with a cute blonde, nerdy girl. Can’t even remember her name; that’s just evidence of how fickle my heart was in adolescence. How fickle it remains today. Never spoke so much as a word to her during those days. Nothing that wasn’t classroom related. Science and English, …

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“Oh why can I not conquer love?”

March 21, 2015


Dear Selina,

It’s strange. So much time has passed without so much as a thought of you. And yet, just a moment ago, I decided to Facebook search you. Why? What hold do you have on my conscience? Why must you continue to haunt my thoughts and memories? If there was a modicum of dignity left in me, I would have perished the thought of you.

I celebrated my thirty-second birthday today in a fit of memory. A dreading fear that I’ll die alone. I thought of all the relationships that crumbled. Crumbled either by my hand or my lack of trying. Jeanna pushes me to remain positive, but she’s on fool’s errand. Your presence stands in the darkest recesses of my mind. Your voice is my depression personified.

Every keystroke, I wonder if you will read these words. I wonder if you even care to. Do you still read my stories like you confess? Do you lurk the old tales?

Maybe it’s not you. Maybe you’re only a footnote in this issue. You weren’t my first thought of day. You’re just an epilogue to a bad day. The reason hang my head isn’t you. It isn’t Jeanna. Failure to understand that causes more misery. The fact that I may never seen Jenny again weighs so much on my shoulders. I do my best to accept the outcome. I made a similar mistake with you. Only difference is that you made the same mistake with others. I wasn’t the only person in your life. Not the only person you pulled along. Not by a string, no. Your cruelty required a noose. You dragged me through the muck and mire of your failure to remain faithful.

So who are you these days, Selina? What facade do you wear? Are you still in counseling? Do you continue to take part in an elaborate charade? Continuing to use the proverbial duct tape to mend a broken marriage? Are you still so much of a coward that you need to shatter the shattered?

I wonder what good is writing these letters to you. If you respond, you’ll just play the victim. If you don’t, then I’m an idiot still talking to walls.

I Think I Love You Better Now

February 13, 2014

I’ve the itch again. The writing bug has crawled up my spine and latched on my brain, spewing ideas and thoughts at a hundred miles an hour.

I met Carol for the first time in person. She’s an amazing person and it doesn’t take a genius to see that I like her a lot. She’s going to kill it tomorrow night (as it is still yesterday today). Her being in my life has inspired so much already—from a new poem to wanting to collaborate with someone who can play the guitar (and the piano!!!).

I also met Isabel (one of my constant readers—there are two now that I know Selina is reading these) for the first time last Saturday. She’s sweet and awesome and deserves much more than who she’s stuck with. She brought along her 18-year-old neighbor (and, no, this isn’t heading into Dear Penthouse Forum territory) who just happens to also be my nephew’s childhood friend, though neither of them remembers the other because they were three and four.

What strikes me as odd was that while I’ve known both Carol and Isabel for only a couple of months, I still managed to hug the both of them. If you haven’t kept up, I’ve a slight case of a lot of things. Haphephobia happens to be one of them. It’s remarkable how far I’ve managed to come in the last two years. It’s stranger that I’m still the same person who freaked out when Angela tapped my shoulder at work to a person who, while nervously, can hug two people who haven’t been in my life for a good chunk of my life.

There are a few blog post ideas that are in the works, including the aforementioned poem, “Modern Courtship (The Dick Pic),” a post about reading Harry Potter at 30, and Shaun has some more things to say. So if you’re a reader of this blog and enjoy it, please do share it with your friends. I’m also working a darker project that I hope garners some attention. Until then, happy huntin’.

Man, it’s been a while since I’ve said that.