People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

Darkness Is a Cannibal

No Points for Style

I remember walking up the stairs to Robert’s apartment, determined to end the hateful stalemate that was immoveable, static, a mountain or a moon, and I walked up the stairs trembling and I would end it. I would end it if I died. . . . → Read More: Darkness Is a Cannibal

Our Very Flesh

Fire

That hate. Does it hold your hand, comfort you, dry your tears? Will it make love to you in the warm dark of a July night when all is anguish and you need to feel life truth hope whispered against the skin of your neck? Has it served you meals when you are hungry and wrapped you in blankets when you are cold? . . . → Read More: Our Very Flesh

The Ugly Familiar 7: Choking on the Ashes

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.1 (except it’s less of a part and more of an interlude) Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 If you haven’t read parts 1-6, that’s OK. This one stands pretty well all by itself.

Peek with me into a house and observe the family therein.

There’s . . . → Read More: The Ugly Familiar 7: Choking on the Ashes

The Ugly Familiar 3.1: I Won’t Fade Away

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Some stories are like laundry. The longer you put off telling them, the bigger they grow.

This story, the one about my earliest adulthood and my relationship with Jacob and Abbie’s dad, has reached the ceiling, toppled over, and begun to spread across the hall and into the . . . → Read More: The Ugly Familiar 3.1: I Won’t Fade Away

As Predictable As Rain In Seattle

As predictable as sleepless nights with a newborn…

As predictable as spring winds in Albuquerque…

As predictable as taxes on April 15 in the US…

That’s how predictable I am.

My sons are both nearly perfect physical replicas of their fathers, what people have called, ever since those weird Austin Powers movies, a “mini . . . → Read More: As Predictable As Rain In Seattle

Aftermath

I don’t usually give advice. Even if you ask me for advice, I might shrug because really, why would I think that I know more than you about anything?

But grief…I know a lot about that. It’s a shitty thing on which to be an expert, but that doesn’t mean I should let that . . . → Read More: Aftermath

It’s a Whole New World, Baby

I’ve been reading the weirdest stuff lately. Not weird, really, just weird for me. POW accounts and memoirs by survivors of violent crimes, tales of child abuse and war, and other tragic stories that are typically far too painful for me to stomach.

In general, I figure the depths of human depravity are what . . . → Read More: It’s a Whole New World, Baby

Driftwood

Depression is rage spread thin. ~George Santayana

I hate everyone and everything. Even the coffee I brought with me to my desk is all wrong. I hate flavored coffee, and I hate the person who used up all the regular coffee and didn’t go buy more.

I hate that the person who did that . . . → Read More: Driftwood

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...