On Loving a She
It works because she loves me,
Always so gentle. Yet rough.
When first we made love, her arms round me strong,
I exhaled, quivering at her every touch.
She carried me to bed, I felt so small, so frail…
Who would have thought!
It works because she loves me,
Always so gentle. Yet rough.
When first we made love, her arms round me strong,
I exhaled, quivering at her every touch.
She carried me to bed, I felt so small, so frail…
Who would have thought!
Utsubora – The Story of a Novelist is a novelist’s story wrapped within a murder mystery that boldly makes a dark descent into the human psyche.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Sometimes looking at the blinking cursor on your screen feels akin to staring at a heart monitor screen. Continue reading
Once upon a time, there was a pink dot that wanted to be normal… Continue reading
“Today, as I look back,
I wonder why I bothered giving a fuck,
Because darling, the truth is,
You suck.” Continue reading
I was doing some good ol’ writing and realized I had a hankering for an iced latte… Continue reading
“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me…he loves me not…”
This, dear friends, is the theme song for those trapped in a home with either an abusive spouse or a mentally unstable parent. There is never a surefire way to determine how to keep them happy. What works one day, won’t necessarily placate them the next. Your best will never be enough. Continue reading
You know what, Dad? …I will always think you were more than just “kinda cool.” Continue reading
Uncle Di scowled eloquently.
I say “eloquently,” because one must never underestimate just how eloquent a scowl can be. Continue reading
“I never knew what hunger meant before. I used to think hunger was that ache you got when you missed breakfast because you were running late to work. A stress relief one succumbed to when having a bad day. Or maybe that sudden craving for mac and cheese after waking up at ungodly hours of … Continue reading
As I mentioned in this post, I recently acquired this book. The beginning was captivating with this as the opening lines: “My mother’s a prostitute. Not the filthy, street walking kind. She’s actually quite pretty, fairly well spoken, and has lovely clothes. But she sleeps with men for money or gifts, and according to … Continue reading
I buy books almost every week.
And given that I work at Barnes & Noble, it’s easy to talk myself into it! Here’s more or less how that conversation with self usually goes… Continue reading