(XXX)

(06/13/08) anxiety anxiety anxiety…ever present, coming down the highway at a great clip, spewing flames from its thoughtless exhaust, eating up the pavement below it and drinking in the rain it has permeated, oh anxiety anxiety, a land of demons and incomprehensible sadness and madness and inability to even describe it, so why try?, why…

(XXIX)

To live in West Virginia is beyond description, but I’ll sure as hell try. THE TOWN The downtown, although historic, offers three colors and they are all shades of gray. The bricks look like they were put in the wrong place, the sidewalks are empty, but they don’t feel that they should be. At times,…

(XXVIII)

(12/11/08) Here’s what it is: There really is something to be said about the spirit of people, how it can open us up from confinement and makes us feel the air around us and understand, that yes, we are in fact still alive. We can see in them a reason to open up, to be…

(XXVII)

It’s strange.  You look at the advertisements and you expect them to explain it all, not just entice; when, let’s be honest enticing is what it’s supposed to do, through and through. I ride through the streets, as if I’m looking over the artwork and judging it; sighing and sweeping and taking all colors and…

(XXVI)

My brain is scattershot.  Like the books that surround me in my apartment–small, askew stacks that find themselves to the right of my couch, on my kitchen table, in my bathroom, in my bed, on my nightstand–I have thoughts that lead to thoughts that lead to discovery.  I pick up a book and I read…

(XXV)

My Saturdays are best spent falling in love with women in bookstores. Sure, I wake up and I read and wonder at the amount I have slept from the night before; I work a little and I run; I come home waiting for that burst of energy. I worry that I’m dying. And then I…

(XXIV)

It seems preposterous, probably bordering on pretension and unoriginality, for me to be writing about reading again, but fuck it–here goes. I often say out loud to anyone who will listen, “There are (insert large number) of reasons that I read and all of them are good.” Certainly, that is bloviating and hyperbolic, but it’s…

(XXIII)

My friend told me she liked my writing but is looking forward to when I write something positive. How’s this: Tonight the air barely moved. Hot, blue sky with jet stream highlights. I ate watermelon, cucumbers, popcorn; I watched my new friend dip a chip in salsa and spread a jelly across bread. The buildings…

(XXII)

I was in the front seat, the navigator’s seat, an atlas open on my lap. I felt as if I was going to vomit. Staring at the highway, the concrete, the fading yellow lines. Behind me the other six in the van muttered to each other. Jasen, my roommate, a balding gay man in love…

(XXI)

I have forgotten myself. I strain my memory and look into the sun, squinting, but it remains: who am I? Or who was I and can I get back there? It is a grand larceny, this life: you only understand it long after the fact. I look for ways to reach inside myself. I try…