“I think the reason God designed us to stand upright is to ingrain into the fabric of our reality that balance is a core part of being.”
-Dan Smith, Thin Lines or Oceans
I fell down. Really hard. Like gonna-need-a-bandaid hard. I do this thing where I’m moving away from something, then I realize I’m going to have to turn around and get the heck out of there, so I spin around and directly slam my face into any multitude of different objects. Doors, poles, tables, people. And I have the knack of timing it perfectly so the momentum of my backward motion added to the kinetic energy of my twisting escape equal the maximum impact possible. Continue reading “Balance”
“Semi-experienced camper looking for competent hiking companion.”
Probably not my best idea to search for a camping buddy on the internet, but then again you probably haven’t met the people I’ve been camping with for the last few years.
For example, I went camping with a good friend and halfway there his Jeep broke down. Not a big deal. It only took us four hours to fix it. And then we missed the ferry. And then we slept in the Jeep with a hoard of thirsty mosquitoes. And then we finally got to the island where we were camping, got our fishing gear together and didn’t catch anything. For the third year in a row! No fish. Spent a few nights in a Continue reading “Comment below if interested”
Let’s be honest. Bread is quickly becoming a thing of the past. We all know it. Some of us will never admit it. Some of us will blindly adhere to our baguettes no matter how obvious it becomes that bread is no longer a relevant food option. They will call upon the ancient law of tradition saying, “We’ve always had bread at the table.” Or even, “Waitress, can we get some bread for the table.” And in a perfect world, the waitress will answer with an eye roll and a flick of her hair, knowing that there is no bread to be found.
If we were more self aware, I think we would be able to admit that bread has never been the necessity so many claim it to be. This may sound like
Continue reading “The End of Bread”
She ran her fingers along the buttons of his satin shirt but knew there could be no heart beating beneath it any longer. Her brother was dead lying in the same place they had found their father dead of a heart attack only a week before. Behind the great mahogany desk, in front of the floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books they had never been allowed to touch. On the rug they had never been able to walk, now covered in blood. They were no longer children. Her light grey dress was ruined, stained an ugly black in the dark room. She noticed the moonlight coming in from the window shining off the blade. She opened the window and threw the knife as hard as she could into the neglected garden far below.
She had killed her brother. She screamed. Continue reading “Which Sister?”
I stood on a line. A line of sheet music. And as I climb up to the next line I get higher and higher. And after I rest, I go lower. Until I enter the next bar, and after my one and a half note, I start flying higher again. I can only go so high before, I have to come back down. This is trumpet sheet music after all, and my minstrel isn’t that talented. So I spend my time climbing and falling. When I’m falling, I’m thinking of when I’ll get high again. And when I’m high, I’m wandering how long I can hold it before I have to slide back into reality. Reality is where I have to live. Between the lines of the treble clef.
I can make myself go higher, but I always fall. No matter how good people think I am, I will always fall back between the lines. That’s my home. I don’t ask anything of you. Just watch me and listen. Try to harmonize. Good luck. Continue reading “Lines”
We carried our fishing poles across the railroad tracks and slid down the steep embankment that led right to the river with just enough flat space for us to set up a bucket to sit on. As always we were using the wrong type of bait. We had some shrimp bait because we were thinking about fishing off the pier but decided on the river because they were too many tourists tangled up in each other’s fishing wire there. We considered that shrimp might not be very good for freshwater fish who probably had never seen a crustacean before, but my brother suggested that we shouldn’t assume that fish were picky, or uncultured, eaters. I thought this was an unnecessarily progressive way too think about fish culture, but I also know you have to keep an open mind if you want to stay current in this day and age. Continue reading “Peedee River”
My shirtsleeves were dripping wet while I pushed them up past my elbows after searching for the second steak knife I knew was lurking in the bottom of the sink. Of course, as I found it Ben screamed out for me and I slid my finger across the blade as I stumbled over the kitchen table into the living room clutching my bloody hand.
“Ben, are you okay?” I asked repeatedly as I tripped over the rug and fell onto my knees behind the couch. He was sitting on the couch, watching batman boom and pow and zing some villains. Continue reading “Dilapidated”