Lights of the cistern
A long short story.
fiction
The Well Within the Rock
I live on a rock in the middle of the ocean. It's not a very big rock. Nor is it a very colourful rock. It would appear to be two or three tones of dark grey. That is how I see it on the days that I go
fiction
The Referral
"When did the pain start?" "I don’t know. I guess, like, a few months ago." "And it’s as if there’s a tapping on your eardrum?" "No, it’s like, it’s more like it’s a drum being hit."
fiction
Define: Sardonic
"Do you think being sardonic is a requisite of getting older?" "What the hell does sardonic mean?" Jeremy asked. He picked at the grass on the hillside and threw it into the air. "I think it means sarcastic. Or no, maybe just like cynical. Sometimes
fiction
The other side of distraction
Happy new year.
reflection
Advice columnist for one
As I've been pushing myself to write more intimately about creative processes, slice of life experiences, and vulnerability, I've started to see my own writing as sounding like thinly-veiled advice columnist writing. I did not see that coming. And not coincidentally, I'm starting to
reflection
Never from scratch
I've long been inspired, fascinated, and curious about artists who can create, create, create, but never return to obscure or bury their past. For myself, and I think for many other aspiring creative minds, lurks the temptation to start fresh in our self-presentation. As we progress in our
creativity
Counting Priorities
Priorities are like arms. If you think you have more than a couple, you're either lying or crazy. - Merlin Mann (source) Take a moment and ask yourself: what are my priorities? Perhaps, like me, you’ve walked decades on this earth and never really asked yourself this
meaning
Phone Crossed Lovers
Arm in Arm, Neck hinged uncomfortably.
reflection
It depends what your goal is
A simple, uncomfortable statement that stops me in my tracks.
reflection
I don't know how to problem solve
Turning, turning, turning away in the machine.
reflection
Don't Pick a Lane
Blogging is strange. Creating content on the internet at large is strange. I often find myself wishing I saw it all as I did two decades ago: then, I was free of the poisonous drive of associating any sense of "success" to what had been written. It was
reflection
