Trying This About a Small Town
I couldn't help it, I wrote about working
Read more
Bitter Melodies, Turning Your Orbit Around
My first coffee was poured from the spout of a steel urn into a styrofoam cup, the kind that squeaks and crunches in your hand when you touch it that I’m certain was a little toxic.
The lost memory of a perfect McPizza
I can tell you that McPizza was salty and sweet, with perfectly melted cheese that tasted a little like an old ninja turtle fresh from 2 minutes in the microwave, all melted plastic and nostalgia.
Hobbies in big letters
I don’t really have any hobbies, having fallen into the class trap of the working creative that is essentially a pile of bills and immediate needs placed gently over a hastily piled patch of grass. Most things I do, I do because I need to eat and other annoying
Heart as hard as nails
I worry that we have let Sad Song mean too many things, that it’s too easy a phrase to describe such a deep well, and it’s time to find new words for the walls we hit on the way down.