Our bodies are carved from electricity and the heat in the air and the scent of your neck and the light yet firm touch of your fingertips, chest against mine, multicolored dots from string lights softly glowing color out from the dark. Everything spins stationary, every slightest movement from you
daily journal
I will wield my words like machetes, chopping through the thickest vines and jungle, through tweets and emails, through word of mouth and podcasts.
Something about this guy's posture and walk made me shudder. I felt so alone and vulnerable, trying to figure out how to escape, when Mr. Sulky Face walked up. I looked into his glum, deathly face and his beady black eyes
confessions
I wondered, what if we weren't in this dark room with the thick walls? Would you show me off in public? Or am I too 'unconventional' for you?
I went to a writing workshop last week where they had us each write a story in 15 minutes. This was mine.
Writing after a long absence feels like reuniting with a best friend. They come out of airport arrivals and the sun is in their hair and they smile that way that feels like the first warm day of spring, and you run up and hug them and everything, in that moment, feels like fate.
Our house is a peeling wall of grey paper, spoiled milk cabinets, sludge brown concrete. I'm standing where I last saw you, a dead bouquet of your wildflowers still in my hand, my vision so cloudy, my body so tired, since you got lost in our hallway to
confessions
I've been writing so much, so quickly, that my pen ink overwhelms the page, and when I shut my notebook at night it seeps out the edges, first in a trickle then a pour, rushing off my desk in rivers down the stairs like blood in an old horror film.
I launched my podcast yesterday. 27 people have listened to my first episode, and 13 of them have reached out personally to tell me how much they loved it. 48% of the listeners to my first episode personally reached out about it. I'm moved to tears over a
8pm last night She leans back cooly on the brewery benches, eyeshadow nuclear orange, eyeliner so sharp it could kill. "Have you been to cutthroat karaoke yet?" She asks. "It's so fun. The crowd decides when people get cut by doing a scissors motion with
We've all heard that people can't change, that an old dog can't learn a new trick, that you should never expect anyone to be anything other than what they show you the first time. This limits people into believing that they aren't