Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Luck
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I don't like telling another person's story. Not if I wasn't an active participant in it or given written permission. Reckon it's due to my dislike of fictional memoirs and the scourge of humanity: fake news. I also realize this self-imposed creative restraint is the death knell for a writer. I go back-and-forth on the…
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The Silver Needle Theatre appears when foresight steals the spotlight. She's the only venue equipped to show what can only be seen inside the mind. So here I am in the balcony, watching you speak to a packed house. You are dressed in your best white button down, blue jeans, and grey suede shoes. Your…
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Hey, where were you on Tuesday? Random cried all day because He Was The Only One. Too much responsibility to handle! That morning, he must not have donned his big boy pants. Anyway, your cousin said you're such a "head's down" guy that she often forgets you're here/there. The Buzzard didn't know you were out…
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what you see beneath ussupporting all our doubt and despairare bankers boxes full of paperdefaced with coordinates on howwe were supposed to steer this ship now the return is delayed on our uncharted trip we may as well be carried on this tricky wind andcount all the ways we can fuck up the simplest things …
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I'm a warm body to occupy a seat on certain days during particular hours. I'm no more different than the Stay In Lane sign I speed past on certain days during particular hours. I am not wired to think of weeks. I'm galactically dense on how to view life as 3 squares, 6 packs, 9…
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I have a story to share with you. Will you hear it the way I want you to? It may not matter if you miss the point entirely. I tried, you see. I'm 5 lines behind as I lay out the truth. A true thing resonates within the listener, not the speaker. Meaning gets messy when weighted with words.…
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And like o.k.: There's this particular writer whose work I've read and enjoyed and whom I find interesting and irritating all in one big, messy mouthful of come-one-come-all (talkin' bout chyoo JD). Yeah so, brutha man goes on about fat folks in his stories and he himself is pretty thin (cute, though – I'm shallow,…
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May 11th, 1996 was the day we met. Me in purple velvet bell bottoms bought at The Potter's House and a little, lacy cami (a doily, really) to cover the upper bits. You in lederhosen and a grey t-shirt with the name Stuckey's stamped in red letters across the chest. A downpour, a shallow stoop,…
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a happy fall is the best kind of fall since it takes a leap and a prayer to get anywhere so best to dive in and let go of the fear of actually succeeding in one's chosen career
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controlled cowardicea maligned blank stone says sofate rocks me to sleep
Semi-Daily Scribbles 