Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Travel
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Storytellers and makers of beautiful things sometimes deal with the downside of creativity. Maybe this next bit will come off as triggering, but artists don't always have an easy time on this rock. For some, these trips around the Sun are white-knuckle rides. One way or another, we all stick around for as long as…
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I've tossed all my maps on the Yule bonfire, so you're my guide now. What will the world look like when we make up new coordinates? Ah, the fallacy of maps! They seem to ask: What has power over you? Maps suggest the uncomfortable, too: Greenland is Bigger because White is Better. Paper trails, that's…
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No fairytale, this. Just fast friends, a gruesome end, and a few fond words shared at the wake. But I pretend, just to mess with make-believe, that love is a redemptive endeavor and not at all about insecurity / jealousy / obsession / regret: The two of you sip limoncello on Capri. I wait for…
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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is not a play. It's a rehearsal script. Something hardbound but not a literary work like, say…oh I don't know…The Cherry Orchard. The rehearsal script is a cash grab, but it's also the foundation for (by what I've read on the InterWebz, anyway) a fantastical stage production. Plot holes…
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She doesn't think I see her, but I do. Oh, I do. The ramshackle lady in flimsy pink flip-flops is a ghost. Is a ghost. We all haunt the places we miss the most. Even when the body is bound up by the present day, the spirit struggles to have its way. It asks: "Is…
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Brandi never wanted to travel that meandering middleroad, where life shrinks and grows and folds in on itself to reveal the early-warning signs of wrinkles and wisdom. Only fresh starts and big payoffs would do. Brandi hated the thought that her life could be reduced to a monotonous crawl of sameness from day to day…
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In a galaxy far, far away (i.e.: in one of time's many iterations) I am 12. I watch a new hope unfold. It is bigger than the screen in front of me. It surrounds and drowns out all other thoughts. The picture starts over at high noon so no one is late and no one…
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We don't want to know you but you've served your purpose wellYou embarked on an expedition to find riches for meMade it home with a bit of flesh left on your bonesPaid your dues plus interestFulfilled your obligationExploitation never varies its tuneCredit earned does not make a statement trueThievery keeps me at #1My youth forever…
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Sandy, covered in mollusk mucous, smelling of the low tide. Treasure! Vital is the grit, the tang, the salt sea mist on taffy-pulled lips. Slap and slurp of the flip flop lost in the tide pool. Slime trails anoint mementos that come home in pockets and glove boxes. Display found objects in a…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 