memoir
"He Who Doesn't Believe...
...doesn't receive."
memoir
...doesn't receive."
essay
He makes a circuit counter clockwise around the perimeter of the yard, checking the tree where he saw a squirrel, the rock wall where he heard a chipmunk, and under the shed where he knows the rabbits live.
memoir
It was on those long drives that I talked myself into asking out a girl for the first, second, and third times and where I dealt with the crushing defeat of rejection and the low grade, lingering pain of being “just friends.”
memoir
When I was a young man I wandered the streets with my friends, making our way from bar to bar, always searching for a girl someone knew, or a buddy who should be out, always finding someone, though it was rarely who we were looking for.
writing
I’ll walk Jack and take a shower and I’ll figure it out. It'll be so clear in my head but by the time I’m toweled off it’ll be faded away like the steam from the shower, gone.
introduction
So here I am. Blogging. Like some pretentious Brooklynite with a trust fund.