This is where it hurts.

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…

I took pot.

” 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.”

Come back and listen

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…

Pain + Time = Defying Gravity

        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…