A young boy stood below the first rung at the end of the monkey bars looking up. He’s big for his age. So many kids are. He might be eleven years old, a little over five feet tall and probably about a hundred-and-forty pounds. There are seven or eight wooden exercise stations dotting a half-mile…
Category: Writing
Sending Smoke Signals Through the Fog
To say my writing, my attempts to write, my thinking, my attempts to think have been muddled these last few weeks would be an understatement. Clarity of thought and of purpose is elusive. I feel as though I’m sending smoke signals through the fog. Lying in bed, groggy and ignoring the cat, one of my…
Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself
Despite what my 5th grade yearbook says: “In 15 years I will be… ‘A pitcher for the California Angels,’” for much of my childhood I wanted to be a doctor and a writer. My father worked for the government but always defined himself as a scholar (Russian military history). He had his own room in…
THE SMELL OF BURNT TOAST
For a few days now, maybe even the past week or two, I’ve felt a kind of malaise and/or lethargy… perhaps more of spirit than of action. For me it’s been most noticeable in my writing, or lack thereof. It’s been difficult to write every day. Something in the feedback loop feels off. I haven’t…
ON LOSS AND BALANCE
Yesterday was the 5-year anniversary of the passing of my ex-fiancee’s mother. I never met the woman, but in getting to know what I can claim to have known about my ex, and in spending a little time with her family, her mother was a larger-than-life figure and her impact on her family was visible…
SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT VOICE
No matter how loud our voices may get, all arguments begin with silence. I never did get back to the post I was working on yesterday morning. In the various arguments that I have with myself, or ex-friends, or the world at large, or my ex-fiancee, but mostly with myself…. I had punched myself out….
A CONVERGENCE OF SUBJECT AND SELF
In paying attention to mood and self and allowing myself the freedom to drift about, I allow myself to be a little proud of miniature battles hard fought and won. In plain language, I could have easily let the night slip away in to surfing the net, swiping profiles, lamenting circumstances, or any other number…
WRITING AND SLOW REVELATION
I seldom get through reading a few poems, or an essay without wanting to hop on my computer and write something. Similarly, I seldom write something without wanting to take it all back or revise it or clarify. I’m thankful that the collection of essays I’m reading seems to support this behavior, this back and…
THE ORDER OF DISORDER
One reason I’ve started using a notebook / journal is because I often have trouble keeping my thoughts straight. I don’t think I have some brilliant mind… but, while I try to remain humble, I have gradually fallen in love with the way I think and process… which at times sets off a loop of…
OF JOURNALS AND SECRETS AND TINY DISCOVERIES
Writing that the sky was marbled seemed too easy (and honestly I’m not sure it qualified as marbled). I found myself searching for something better. I called it an army of animals shrouded in shapes (unanimal like) marching towards the sunrise. I’m not sure how accurate that description is. For one thing, the sun is…
AN A FOR EFFORT
I’m up earlier than I’d like to be (Nick the cat, puking). Yesterday ended up crashing and burning (at least in terms of productivity). I never got my momentum back after the rejection email. I went back and re-read the post I was writing, but couldn’t quite pick the train of thought back up… (I…
OF WIND AND SAILS
Well… that didn’t take long. I was in the middle of writing something (sure to be profound) about change when an email popped up from the journal I submitted to last night. Being of little will power and unsound mind, I opened it up to read the form rejection. I remember way back when I…