It comes in like a lion
I guess books remind us that one person’s experience could speak for thousands and we could share some intimacy with strangers, make the world a smaller place.
Recent Posts
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The comfort in patterns
We were getting near the end of it though the news warned of a fourth wave. And I’d been off work for a month now which seemed great from a distance but got strange the more I got inside of… Read More ›
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The song of myself is a crude souvenir
The most precious things we keep hold meaning for only us, and it’s those things we surround ourselves with as time takes all the rest.
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The crawlspace
The day was already ruined so he decided to check out the crawlspace. He hadn’t been to the crawlspace for years. There was no reason to unless there was a problem. He knew there’d be more to deal with if… Read More ›
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Space is the place
Time moves with the same erratic force of those bleating jazz horns like locusts devouring anything in its path.
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We should kill time
It rained like hell, like uncooked rice spit on the windows the sound. And the big tree branches lay in clumps around the yard. And the ground oozed like sores, like cartoon mouths. And I dozed and woke to the… Read More ›
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The view looking in
Solemnly he moved across the floor and back to the sofa where he lay on his side looking out the window. There was hair everywhere in the cracks and crevices, dog hair. He imagined the hair adhering to him when… Read More ›
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A touching display
I let myself off the hook with my writing routine and look where it’s gotten me. I’ve started playing video games, the first person shooter kind, and go to bed replaying scenes of me dying or killing other players. I’ve… Read More ›
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The cosmic distance ladder
Morning time in the old German village where we once lived. The narrow stone roads that feel like a labyrinth, more for pedestrians than cars. The sound of tire tread when cars pass slow. Everyone smoking. Past the Italian bakery… Read More ›
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It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about
“When the men with guns who have always claimed to be against the system start wearing uniforms and marching with torches and pictures of a leader, the end is nigh. When the pro-leader paramilitary and the official police and military… Read More ›
Featured Categories
writing ›
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It comes in like a lion
February 28, 2021
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The comfort in patterns
February 27, 2021
Memoir ›
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The song of myself is a crude souvenir
February 17, 2021
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Space is the place
February 7, 2021
travel ›
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The cosmic distance ladder
January 24, 2021
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That last Christmas in Cork
December 13, 2020
