(Originally posted April 28, 2018)
“We are not real living beings, you know,” Caffeine said, then jerked his head to the side, looking at the door to the room.
“Yeah—but it doesn’t much matter. It’s nice being as we are, at least,” Alcohol said, and sat down on his chair. He stared up at the other two and smiled goofily.
“It matters a little bit,” Nicotine said, parting back his ginger hair. “I, for one, like to be flesh.” Continue reading
(Originally posted April 2, 2016)
“AHHHH!” the man screamed at the empty sheet of paper, making it move in a slight, wavering fashion on the mahogany wood table.
He reared back, his face taking on a bluish tinge, and he breathed in and out. The man sounded, vaguely, like a squeaky toy caught underneath a car’s tire.
He put his hands on his knees and leaned back down once he could breathe again. His face, his skin, now so close to the white paper that the moisture stained. Continue reading
(Originally posted February 6, 2016)
The pond ripples underneath my fingertips, and my face sputters into a mess of stretching lines and round curves. And it spreads across the entire pond, in however small a way. I take a drop and smear it across my forehead, and it feels cold with the summer heat.
It’s tempting to plunge my entire hand into the froth, and feel the strains against my skin, but I can’t, not here, not now. Continue reading
(Originally posted November 4, 2015)
So, for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter, I somewhat recently sent out a series of themed tweets called #philosophicalgiftbaskets. In these I attempted to explain complicated philosophy via the miracle of gift baskets.
It went about as well as one could expect.
Here, are those tweets.
Welcome to Solipsism.
The gift basket does not actually exist.
#philosophicalgiftbaskets Continue reading
Have I really been doing these for 3 years now? Damn. Well, alright. Most of you are probably with the program by this point and know that it’s about that time again. But, for those of you who have no idea what the Christmas Collection is, it’s a series of reposts. I spend a little while each year picking out 12 articles that mean something to me (I’ve decided to forgo the categories this year) and then post one every day up to and including Christmas day. Continue reading
He had his hand against his cheek, and his eyes looked tired—even with the candlelight in them.
“So,” she began, and he held up his hand.
He had this odd, multi-band ring.
“No, none of that. Be more open, would you?” Continue reading
Can there be logic,
In the face of so much,
I can’t tell. Continue reading
He sat, dead-eyed, with his hand on his chin. “I know.”
And, with those two words, she sputtered. “How…?”
He smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. She could not say for sure, but something seemed to move behind him—something huge.
“I know things, not to worry,” he replied.
“I’m worried,” she said. “This is a secret. I can’t have it getting out.” Continue reading
I promise I don’t mean this as a brag—that’s not my intention. It’s a simple symptom, byproduct, a side effect of something that a lot of writers strive to do—and, if you embark on your writing journey a certain way, you’re going to hit this too, and you should be aware of the potentiality of it. Continue reading
Hear it move,
Here it out there,
In the dark. Continue reading
I reached over 300 followers on WordPress, and it’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, so why not combine the two into one post? Because, well, one of the things I’m thankful for is that so many people, despite all the changes, despite all the different things I’ve done in my writing, the audience here continues to grow, and I get emails sometimes from people—and it means the world to me.
I do this blog for almost entirely free and yet it feels like so much a part of my life as a writer. I hope that it stays that way. Continue reading
Sunlight hits the buildings,
And looks wrong,
The sun slanted against the walls, Continue reading
There may be days when you find yourself annoyed with people. Where it seems like the only option is to stay inside and not face them. I get it. I’ve been there.
But, people, dear reader, people are worth it. I write sometimes for the sake of my future self so that he might see stuff and recall what happened then. What was important and what is still important. This I think I’m writing for the sake of every shy nerdy awkward person who’s ever felt isolated.
I want to tell them that people are worth it.
People are worth it. Continue reading
Sally felt stuck in her own body. She sat at the edge of her bed and stared at her hand. It did not fizzle, pop, slurp, or warp. She focused harder, and the skin turned a nice shade of purple. She smiled at that until it faded back to her normal dark skin.
“God fucking dammit!” she swore and ran her hands through her hair. A deep anger jutted through her body. She was on the verge of tears.
“Whoa,” came a voice from the hallway—and a pink furry creature stood in the doorway. “That’s not an okay word, Sally,” it said, its voice guttural. Continue reading