There was a time when I wasn’t looking at a screen all day, and now…God now I hate myself for how often I stare at this stupid fucking device. I KNOW it’s no good for me. I KNOW it makes me angry. I KNOW it skews my perspective. And yet I can’t stop. I log on every day.
A little something for spooky season.
After almost a decade we’re all hurt, scared, and angry and losing the ability to keep that pain from slipping into our day to day life. That’s why more and more you see people publicly talking about when “IT” will happen.
I didn’t understand a word that crew chief said but I assume it was a Japanese equivalent of “You motherfuckers!” They may be a stoic culture, but soldiers are soldiers and that crew chief was fucking pissed.
FoxTales is a story telling event in it’s fourth season at the Marilyn Rodman Performing Arts Center in Foxboro, Massachusetts. Each year the organizers come up with monthly themes and have storytellers pitch ideas for a seven minute story that if selected they perform live. The audience votes on
Trying something different today. Here are three small pieces I tried and failed to flesh out into something bigger but liked too much just to leave in a drafts folder.
That undiluted dose hit me like a freight train. It slammed into me like a tsunami. That shit felt AMAZING. It felt like the euphoria of dying.
Guy got laid. Guy was never alone. Guy never got cheated on. Guy never pined away. Guy never had to hide drunken tears in a latrine shower. Guy was always smiling. He always had a girl on his arm.
...barracks ethics made her off limits and as much as Pierce disliked the machine gunner from New Jersey and liked the little dark haired girl from California he couldn't act on it. He wasn’t a Blue Falcon, he wasn’t Jody. Normally...
Turns out even twenty-two years old, three thousand miles from home, drunk in the parking lot of a foreign motel I’m not that guy.
I get it now. I understand why New Englanders flee south.
I was a redneck kid with redneck friends and it’s hard to sneak a cigarette in High School but it’s easy to sneak a dip. Shop teacher didn’t even pretend not to notice. Smokeless tobacco ruled the high school bleachers. I started, like all St Tammany Parish kids do, with Skoal Bandits