The people that look at me, what do they see? The ones that dabble with curiosity to find the intricacies in my voice, what do they hear? I wonder if they can hear the silence between my words, if they… Read More ›
writing
Chimichanga Line
Chipotle’s business model has one subtle issue: the lightening quick and oft robotic preparation of my burrito, just behind an insincere sneeze screen, makes it almost impossible not to attack my burrito like a rabid werewolf when it’s done. It’s… Read More ›
What’s Important to Me?
With long lines at the gym and salad bars, I can’t help but think January has to mean something more to me. It’s not just a new calendar year, it’s a new beginning: a time, no doubt, to set goals… Read More ›
Happy Birthday, Mom (A Poem)
happy birthday Mom a happy day not to mourn but to celebrate your smile your laugh your hand with mine a silent h good & plenty memories cappuccino necco wafers good fortune to cherish us to have you to call… Read More ›
The Writing Path to 2014
Bender pondered the wine in his hand. “A writer needs four things to achieve greatness, Pasquale: desire, disappointment, and the sea.” “That’s only three.” Alvis finished his wine. “You have to do disappointment twice.” I share this passage from… Read More ›
Beautiful Ruined
It’s happened before. Arrogance and fear combined to make humble pie. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I locked my eyes on the first page of a book and immediately criticized and picked apart the author’s work. I chuckled… Read More ›
Memories Applied in a Dirt Lot
Like a camera out of focus, everything in front of me was just a little bit off. I pinched my eyes to temper the blur, to see that the world around me was, in fact, real. It was a moment… Read More ›
Thanks Give In (Weekly Writing Challenge: Haiku Catchoo!)
(image: Street Haiku by cogdogblog CC BY-SA 2.0) Thanks Give In Take two, oven mitt Remember, remove giblets Lest tradition fixed — There’s always a first. This challenge got me with the notion that “[v]ariety in writing projects keeps things fresh and interesting.”… Read More ›
When Old Bridges Pass
The old bridge runs alongside the new. Like a shadow of my past crossings, it’s a stark reminder that nothing in this world is permanent. Piece by piece, they disassemble the steel, and each morning I glance over my right… Read More ›
Get to The Point
To say the hand-cranked mechanical pencil sharpener was the Cadillac of pencil sharpeners would be a huge understatement. During my school days, the painted metal sharpener was ever present, usually bolted into a long counter in the classroom, always with… Read More ›
eternal Domnation 