And don’t we all have our gashes. That wound that is just yours, in your secret tender spot. 100 people, poked in that particular place, might wince, might slap away a tiny sting in irritation. But you, you can’t stand even the thinnest chafe, the warmest puff of wind. The nerves are inflamed, torn muscles…
Love Languages are the best wave of armchair psychology to hit the hive mind for years. Besides helping people recognize that they’re loved even if it’s delivered in a peculiar package, it gives respectability to my obsession with perfect gift giving. Gifts must match recipients. They must demonstrate you took a moment to consider the…
“…when I hear women saying that the cards are stacked against them because of the Patriarchy I think, “Yeah no shit. Welcome to the world, Princess. Stop stomping your dainty little foot sniffling “not fair!” Grab the fucking deck and reshuffle.”
Don’t call them “Rebs” and don’t call it The War of Northern Aggression even in fun. OR in sincerity because you’re contrarian by nature and you’ve read waayyyyy too much about the Right of Secession. They will go pale, look frustrated or guilty or…..guiltstrated…. and not be able to think of how to respond.…
” I was asking for the relief from living that the drug supposedly gave, with none of the greasy memories I tied to it still attached.”
Dear Dad My brain has lately become very convinced you’re real. So I am going to indulge it. LE is eight now. You wouldn’t believe how graceful and athletic she tends toward. She’s like…she couldn’t possibly be related to us, you know? I remember, Dad, how when I was a kid and you patted my…
Every other writer I know works a hell of a lot harder than my lazy ass and if you judge by effort, I do not deserve what I’ve garnered in my 2 and a half year career. The other night I got to talk on late night radio about a little listicle…
Sibling Day. So that’s a thing is it? Well, here is what I have to say about that. I still don’t know what I did. I thought everything was fine. Mom died, leaving us full grown orphans. We buried her together, next to our father, each of us shouldering some burden of not being anyone’s…
Flight. Feel danger or pain approaching and retreat. Unless you’re evolutionary defective. Then you just lean right on into that pain. It’s a compulsion. Nearly out of my control. I feel it in my gut, a force tugging me from my center, off my feet and into the sharp end of whatever bad situation points at me. Especially…
My phone died, and when I plugged it into charge, I got texts from months ago. I don’t know what that’s all about. Where were they lingering? Inside a cord, stacked inside a cell tower, or embedded in the light? No matter. Point is, one of them was a piece of bad feelings from an…
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