NaPoWriMo #10 (04/10/2016)

I want to write like John D’Agata. I want to write like John D’Agata and Annie Dillard and David Shields and Maggie Nelson. I want to write like somebody else. Their essays are my breath, my purpose, my goal. But to get there I must write like myself until I write like them, and then…

NaPoWriMo #9 (04/09/2016)

Survivor’s guilt, a baby blanket used to keep us warm in the indignant foundation of self-reflexive universe. That is the funny thing about guilt. We don’t ever have to take the well-being of others in to consideration to feel guilty. Guilt and shame revolve around the individual feeling it. It is like when people cry…

NaPoWriMo #8 (04/08/2016)

A lot of people are wondering why I am hashtagging numbers and yet I am still compelled to call them pound signs. Pass me the prune juice and turn on Matlock; I’m done.

NaPoWriMo #7 (04/07/2016)

Video games tell a story that one must push the correct buttons in order so as to get the grand finale Literature: a vehicle for wisdom A moldy cake on the hot Mexico spring night that reminds you that you left the oven on. UUDDLRLRBASTART

NAPoWriMo #6 (04/06/2016)

(I apologize for the delay. Life has gotten very busy. I was writing the whole time, but haven’t been posting. I spend the next few days checking up with the posts.)   Allergic     to           accidents We see/hear/taste/smell/touch what we choose to But how often are we glancing                into the empty find         ing       the        every        thing

NaPoWriMo #2 (04/02/2016)

A grown man maces a 15 year old girl at the latest rally for the scapegoat de jour, and I am at home wallowing in the depravity of the nation, in between paragraphs of an essay about Barbados. The sweet vapor of mortality has been filling my room, choking me in my sleep. I dream…