I'm like Hunter S. Thompson without the mescaline I write as a biological process. Like peeing, but a lot more fun to share. I would like to have an implant so I can write just by subtle movements of my left pinky finger. My fiancee insists she will leave
+ more bio informationI remember a sleepover with three of my cousins, two archetypical boys and a tomboy. Even when I was four or so, I felt somehow different, and not simply that they ate their morning Cheerios without the requisite honey nut. We played with army men and trucks and I felt more that I was performing a role for their benefit than... More..
Year and a DayI have to do today that which is going to allow me to live with myself tomorrow. Right now, that means supporting Emily, even when she breaks off our engagement.Friday, just after Emily came home from seeing her therapist, she said we needed to talk. I immediately closed the lid of my computer to signal that she... More..
This Beautiful AgonySarah the Vet Tech and I go to the Dia Museum, if just to give ourselves something a bit more active to do than sit and talk. (I am rapidly running out of clever stories to tell her and I worry there is really nothing underneath them.) We are philistines, making sardonic observations about a room full of w... More..
I turn on my computer, intending only to tell Melanie that I am home and then go to bed. After her hello, she is silent for several minutes and then writes: look, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I was passive-aggressive and mopey and shit, but I also ought to clarify the following: I don't have all the time in the world. I'm ... More..
In my early adolescence, I took to jokingly asking girls to marry me. I was odd enough that I largely got away with this histrionic gesture, until a girlfriend when I was fifteen or so decided that I was remotely serious. She just wanted someone to swear to love her forever, having learned to mistrust those who were required ... More..
While sitting in the bookstore, plotting how best to murder the pretentious middle aged writer who squeezed in next to me, I notice some woman with her child looking at the bargain books. My attention is eager to be somewhere other than the sci-fi/fantasy writers' group meeting (or rather, members thereof) and this woman is o... More..
I was a believer when I was young. When I was young enough to have already read through all the books my elementary library had on the paranormal (a few times), I was witness to the Great Hudson Valley UFO. It was not a fuzzy light on the horizon. Instead, I remember it as a triangle a city block on each side filled with e... More..
I can't capture fireworks. No matter how I may try, nothing I write can touch being outside on a summer's night to watch the darkness explode in greens and reds. You've seen your own fireworks and can generalize the experience, but it won't be the same. It won't be this night.Liz takes pictures of the explosions overhead, an ... More..
I had managed not to cry until the very end - until we sat, nude and cuddled together, playing on the internet and I realized how much I would miss something so simple. Then my tears drained out of me finally, delicate and slight, but constant. She reciprocated on my bare shoulder, something she's never done, something she sw... More..
It is only three in the afternoon, but Emily insists that I drop her in front of Dutchess Stadium for the Counting Crows concert at six. I do so with a severely cocked eyebrow and granted confirmation that I think she is insane."It'll fill up quickly!" she protests."There is one car and a family tailgating, M.""You don't know... More..
Xen
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