Tag: emo
-
8:14 (79)
“She likes you.” The words in the window came from two thousand miles away, but I could just as easily imagine Abstract saying it, her voice as breezy and calm even as the determination and furious energy coursed through every word she said. We’d conversed offhandedly on the subject a bit before I left, before…
-
you can’t go home again.
Walking around a rainy Portland, music beamed into my skull, heart full to bursting and ready for something that ain’t gonna fucking happen, all nerves and needs and knowledge, I’m on again, all switches tripped, and it’s not Anger or Fear or even Truth, I am here, I am perfectly alone. I have not been…
-
8:14 (78)
I spotted her, as I usually do, by accident, focused more on the sushi than anything else in the store–it’s easy protein, even if it’s overpriced, I thought to myself–when, may the feminists of the world forgive me, I spotted her butt. Hard though it may be to believe, from the angle at which I…
-
your face is momentary.
kiss me with the kisses of your mouth.
-
8:14 (76)
This is the third time I’ve started this post, and I still don’t really know what to say. By the time most of you will read this, 03:15 Central Standard Time will have passed, making me officially thirty-two years old. I don’t really know what else to say about it, really, other than I’m now…
-
i find it fitting
That, on the day I write an impassioned defense of parenthood, my father calls me to physically threaten me for no rational reason. While I doubt there was a credible threat to what he said, he’s never physically threatened me before. He played another exposed nerve, too, that I don’t really want to talk about…
-
in defense of parenthood.
So I had a thought last night, and it went something like this. It’s neither researched, nor well-written. Here goes: My sister, whose career and adult life have been nothing but a series of acknowledgments and validations of her hard work and dedication, steadfastly refuses to have kids, or even a desire for them. This…
-
my couch.
I slept on my living room couch last night, unusual for me when my roommate is actually in town. The convenience of owning a sectional makes improvised bedding very simple: drag the portions into shape and slip into unconsciousness. It’s a testament to my warm-bloodedness that all I needed was a tiny throw blanket (and the…
-
“if you go before me…”
Like most men, I do my best thinking on the toilet. Freed from the usual hassles intrinsic to the kind of life I lead–screaming kids, screaming adults, people calling for money–I find any toilet in which I feel comfortable and clean enough to be the safest place on the planet. I spoke to an old…
-
gettin’ to be that time…
I’m feeling pretty well right now, relaxed and with my belly full, knowing full well what I’ve been doing this week has been a complete waste of my time and wanting to change it. I shouldn’t be going out tonight, but I can’t help myself. None of this is worth it, and I really need…