Stream of Conscious

Meaning to Write

I’ve just become a better writer. I didn’t attend a writing conference, finish a book of prompts, or get a piece published. In fact, strictly speaking, I didn’t do anything. Life happened. As a result of this particular occasion, words,… Read More ›

Image That?

So I got to thinking: How much would I pay for a hard-drive that contained every single image captured by my own eyes? What would my autobiography, uncensored and limited only by the ability of my photoreceptors to convert light… Read More ›

Filthy Guilt

At times, I write out of guilt. That has to be a bad thing, right? It’s a wasted emotion, an attachment to judgment, something endured by lapsed Catholics. Guilt is nothing but a filthy animal. Truth is, I don’t really… Read More ›