You fell so low inside yourself stripped of worth stripped of will stripped of dignity You found me then and found your heart beat in you beat in I beat in we From tear-drenched sleeves to hopeful trails made music made love made free The Decades they flew as our hearts did renew forged by…
Don Occam would say time rubs the flaws away from your memory, like wind and rain on old stone, so only a crystalline, smooth, perfect image remains of your lost love. And he would be right. The old bastard might have become the embodiment of rage against the universe, but after 3600 years of mourning,…
What? How many times a day do you say that? When I started my business in the late 90s I worked from home, alone in a condo in Fairfax Virginia. And having come from the loud and hectic world of an Internet company, having been the head of education with classrooms only feet away from…
I never believed in soulmates. I thought that was romantic nonsense and anyone who ached to meet theirs was in for a long and lonely wait with lots of really bad relationships strewn on the path behind them. I always believed that a good relationship, a fulfilling relationship, was nothing more than lots of hard…
There is a theory that at death, not only does your energy return to the universe, but it returns with personality intact–or alternately, you return as part of the whole consciousness of the universe, aware not only of yourself, but also of every coherent personality. I find this comforting. And though there is nothing in…
It’s been a while since I posted last. I apologize. I’ve been elbows deep in a new series, trying to write while there’s a moment of peace in my life between Gretel’s treatments. And I’m sorry it’s our current state of affairs that moved me to write today… I’d much rather be talking about Don…
I once served under an Ops Sergeant named Smitty—SFC D. Smith—who I always looked up to as the type of soldier I wanted be. Smitty fearlessly grabbed satchels full of explosives and tossed them over his shoulder. He walked toward the sound of gunfire, no matter the context. We could be in the middle of…
When your mind is filled with information, worry, and emotion, it’s easy to get to the end of the day and feel the time just evaporated behind you. As you get older you begin to feel the same way about weeks, months and years. I remember as if it were yesterday, the time I stood…
So it will be 20 days tomorrow. When I woke up on the morning of May 6th, I couldn’t stand, my chest was tight, my head was spinning and nausea rolled over me, wave after wave. The Urgent Care center thought it might be a stroke so I spent the night in the hospital. After…
Around the age of 31, I started a new ritual; waking up and announcing my gratitude aloud. It seemed silly and I didn’t even say it aloud at first, worried my bedroom furniture would judge me as some new-age, hippy-dippy, crystal worshiping doofus. The improvement was immediate though not significant. I in fact, didn’t realize…
So, it’s been a year since my dad died and I wrote my own sharp edged memorial to him. I can’t say I’ve done a whole lot of work in resolving anything with him. It’s been a little quiet from his side, and I’ve been fairly busy myself since my beautiful wife (who was ill…
Cold against my thigh, I feel you in my pocket reminding me that I want to smoke. Your weight is comforting to me. Unlike your plastic imitators, you have substance, bulk, a heaviness that hints at your great worth. Ahhhh, my Zippo. My first was stamped with the Army Engineer logo. That made Zippo a life icon,…
He looks like me. He wears my clothes and sounds like me when he speaks, rarely as that might be. The troll at my writing desk is my distorted doppelganger. He comes into existence slowly over a period of days. Sometimes just a shadow, at first. But as my manuscript or editing become more involved,…
I can only imagine how impossible it must feel for someone who has to face clients when in this situation. The reality of dealing with the daily agony of a sick, possibly terminal loved one, then having to go to work, facing clients, buyers, even workmates with a smile on your face has to…
When he thought about her, he was sad. If “he” is a supporting character, and the reason he was “sad” about “her” is not critical to the story, then I would be fine with the description. But if there is any significance to his sadness, “her” or the circumstances around either of them, then I’ve…
She walked into my study, her fuzzy bunny slippers slapping her heels with each step. “You have something for me?” I looked up from my computer and smiled thinly, apologetic, before shaking my head. “Sorry. I’m working on it though.” She lingered in the doorway, cupping her coffee mug with both hands. Her robe…
I called out to her, nearly moaning in frustration. “Please! Give me anything.” She didn’t respond. So typical of the fickle, flighty fairy. When you need inspiration, she is nowhere to be found. She shows up on her own at the most inconvenient times; when you’re stepping into the shower, closing your eyes to sleep,…
Like hot dusty air, it burned with each breath. It didn’t matter that the air was clean and cool…my scene had me choking, my eyes watering. When to breathe? Writing my story (or rather, my story shoving me through a tube, squeezing me out at the other end with frantic key strokes) consumes me in…
