letters to my lost pen pal. part I.
this speaks volumes to the exact way i felt about my life at the age of 18. it is an email response i wrote to a girl two years my junior who was, at the time, perhaps the sole keeper of my most precious and damaging secrets. between the two of us, we must have written at least a hundred emails back and forth between 2005 and the end of 2007. at the time, i had recently gotten into stanford and...
a poem that ended 5 years ago
and a few more moments are emptied out always or never the same. it’s what happens when you look at the path you’ve taken knowing you are not coming home
something I had forgotten
the fog rolls in then vanishes. I want to follow it somewhere because it seems like something. I know it, but it doesn’t care about me, doesn’t care what I know. I want not to care. I want to care until it kills the not knowing.
love to the unloved
we will always be this way tortured tangled tango, mess a little something to undress then to rip apart the flesh
"turning tricks" at christmastime
my hometown may be little more than an elderly person playground and an absolute hell hole, but as such, it offers up a wealth of true stories that are, if anything, way stranger than fiction. and, as a “writer”, you know, thank god for that. the other day, i accompanied my grandmother for a little jaunt around the courthouse square. as you may have guessed, the courthouse is...
car rides with grandma
are the worst. she is the only person i know who can find something to talk about every 5 seconds for an hour straight while driving in the middle of absolutely fuckin nowhere. it’s like being trapped in a tiny portable hell, where the destination is always somewhere you don’t want to fuckin go and the starting point is somewhere you definitely didn’t want to be in the first...
tHIS is how i feel today. crzy and excellent. →
this is your new favorite christmas movie →
from the mouth of babes
i must admit, i do have a favorite student when it comes to tutoring. yesterday we had the following conversation: student: (interrupts himself in the middle of a sentence to say in a croaky voice)…my throat is dry. me: do you want some water or something? student: (raises eyebrows) nuh uh! me: wait…why not? student: well, my throat is dry…but i can live with that. this...
who really has them anymore? i have this feeling that they may have played prominently in 80’s porn, but why? i don’t think i’ve ever even seen 80’s porn. but yea, anyway, waterbeds. waterbeds are weird. kind of as weird as waterbed pants..
if you can make tats like this, you're right - my... →