I’m freezing today. 87 and sunny in New York and it’s as though the walls of my apartment are icing over as I continue to stagger my breath. Car doors slam and lock outside as I stay wrapped in the blanket my mother passed on to me years ago. I am not always aware of how well I have it. My head is crowing like a grandfather clock each time the hour hand hits a number. I wonder briefly...
Bananas and salt
jscottgrand: I’m drunk on whiskey and wine, listening to X and writing a story about reluctant criminals. But I’m dreaming of barefoot walks in the sand with New Hampshire girls that smell of bananas and salt without any reason and who carry mysteries in their purses like seashell fragments scattered across so many continents. And I wish I could keep time like the starfish grows.
wearing out my welcome
Tormented by thoughts tonight. This blog has become a straight line for me to walk along. It’s where I leave my blackness for the few minutes I give myself to rest. And yet, it feels pretentious. My words will never be up to par with the beautiful sentences strung together by dangling pieces of soft flesh. I guess I apologize. For never being coherent and for barely breathing when I write. My bed...
The doctors whispered cancer as the waiting room filled with the sick and the soon dead. I cleaned my ears. I need to hear the words they spit from their pretentious lips. I want the hurt of chapped skin from too much bad news. Because my spine feels as though it has been unzipped; (Woe is me, there are fists punching my organs and perhaps I am…) but breathebreathebreathebreathe. I have...
I spent the better part of today curled in an S shape at the end of my couch. I ate peanut butter and listened to Magnet while the clouds took form in a sky so wide, it seems as though I’ll never see the same piece twice. I wiggled my fingers over the glow of a black keyboard as the melodies of Even Johansen ate through the crunchy core of me and spit them out into fragile chunks on the...
Classes start in a few weeks and I will be embarking on a new journey. I will migrate through seventeen historic buildings on an unfamiliar campus as the vibrant leaves transition to the colors of fall. And you know those moments of clarity you get beneath the weeping willows on Route 110? They are fleeting. They expand and fall in the same way our chests do. Nothing stays golden forever. ...
Fighting My Friends
I write to you from across the sink, where my lungs were freed from a fleshy cage in the heat of August’s breast. (I am invisible to you; my mouth cries wolf and now I’ll never be the same). If I were born amongst the lavandar hands of World War veterans and their plump wives perched on tearful hello’s, I would be modest, superstitious, less afraid of airplanes then model...
We saw the rise and fall between train cars and I don’t believe I’ve written much of the inevitable. I’m terrified my notebooks will fill and my heart will wither from the stress of taking a step in the right (?) direction. Drowning breaking brazen and infamous. I found our notes hidden beneath rotten floorboards. And I missed you, once you were deployed into the mountains of a...
It feels like drowning, the way my hips gyrate against an angry carburetor. Vonnegut once said, “So it goes.” And so it does. We all move through life at the speed of space and time and seldom do we stop to break the cycle. Who I am now is nowhere near as interesting as who I thought I might become. And so we move. There is a small reflection pool I pass on my way to work at a small newspaper...
On black nostalgia
I’m experiencing black nostalgia today. The kind you feel you can’t crawl out of, even if that smell disappears or the notes of that song go flat. Where I though I would be is practically galaxies away from where I really am. She and I, we could have been finite. Instead, we are cheap diamonds dumped off at a jeweler who looks at you with sorrow filled eyes and says, “This is worthless.” I never...
If you find yourself etched into the fervor of the sky, then you’ve begun. Trace your ribs over your skin and count how many you have; you will lose six in your lifetime. One will crack from the weight of high heels as the first girl you’ve ever loved runs away with a man that smells like peach Skoal. Two more will bend the day you decide your degree means nothing in the grand scheme...