Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Mystery
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…and now a word about Substack. I'm an oldster who misses the MySpace and Tumblr era. Creative, fun hangouts where the cool kids held court. I don't recall ever having to dodge freak-a-zoids on those early social media platforms. Substack, however, is a different beast. I've only been an active "Content Creator" for a month,…
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Lament the idol riderMemories arise while oneBrowses the aislesA roadside gift shopSearch for the perfectPiece of IdentityDark hairDark eyesScent of sage and chocolateStrong ArmsWind blew in through The CracksWe looked uponRolling HillsJade ForestsThrough grease-smeared glassAnd Paradise residesBeyond the NextBlind Curve Keep ScratchingKeep DetachingYou'll Strike A NerveSomeday
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Still raw from saying goodbye at the beginning of the month, but it's gotten a bit easier to breathe. Been receiving lovely messages from friends wanting us to know the many ways in which you helped them and provided countless good times that'll last as precious memories. I've been going through letters and photographs and…
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It's been two days since you left this place to start a new journey. Odd thing, time. It holds no meaning, serves no particular purpose Right Now since I'm bouncing all over the place with all sorts of Memories & Thoughts. I'll be sharing snippets and photos for a while until I can write a…
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wedding bells sound the news your body's been foundscatter ricethrow the dicevegas resounds with tourist traps and vicewhile the tides rise along the left coastfishing boats are lost at seanow it's just you and meto navigate this soundscape without your discordant chords
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Barbie, with her wicked business acumen, saw this seismic shift in the world of comms way before any in-the-trenches types were mysteriously summoned, in small batches, to a hard to find 4th floor conference room with nary an explanation as to why. So the story goes… A man dressed in black sat in front of…
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The Glowing Rose is a tavern on the outskirts of town. Just past it, little over a mile, the road runs out. If a body were traveling through those heavily wooded parts, they’d see the border of another country soon enough. The old timers, though, have a hard time leaving their homes. “I’ve spent all…
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Selective memory has atrophied the ability to see situations clearly.But do we not do the things one ought to do?Like? Like paying bills.Playing it safe.The What-If Game takes up more and more of our time as we find ourselves stuck in a groove from decades ago just like the old timers we once despised.The mirror…
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We stared at a map on the wallDuring a break from paying our dues Just you and me and the man in the treeLens focused on capturing what cannot be seenA howl from the other room warned of a time to comeThat would define us all too soon Like brilliant silver light from a dying…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 