An Increasingly Inebriated Stream of Consciousness
The concentration with which I watch the condensation collect on a full glass of beer at this bar is unmatched … Continue reading An Increasingly Inebriated Stream of Consciousness
Category: Essay
Nobody Cares If I Get Cut By Glass
Because it didn’t happen unless you tell people, conjuring up faux sentiments of your well-being from people who only know you for live-tweeting board meetings and pay-per-views. Those people don’t know that over eight or nine years, you’ve also groomed yourself into a pent-up single introvert who sometimes forgets it’s okay to invite people to do things with you. Continue reading Nobody Cares If I Get Cut By Glass
Lost Places — the Lesson of Versailles
Yet, she let herself walk away from the place of grandiose beauty, the symbol of centuries-old privilege, with such a staunch feeling of heedlessness. She didn’t even notice the estate growing smaller behind her — its golden scheme becoming narrower with each step until it blended in with the light of the sun, finally breaking through clouds. Continue reading Lost Places — the Lesson of Versailles
‘This has to stop now.’
I think about having a boyfriend, a man, a person, anyone, just showing up in my apartment, pulling me from my bed, bathing me, dressing me, and pushing me out into the sunlight. But nobody comes. Continue reading ‘This has to stop now.’
From Pent-Up Aching Rivers — w4m (Port Huron)
You come and go so sporadically and casually and are gone for such lengths of time, that it shouldn’t exist, but something keeps that electricity going, something is keeping the lights on. I can’t help it. Continue reading From Pent-Up Aching Rivers — w4m (Port Huron)
I Sing the Body Electric — w4m (Port Huron)
I swear once I felt you. And not that I realized I had feelings, or that we brushed shoulders flitting by, but that I felt you, I felt the significance of your being there and wondered instantly how I would deal in the fleeting seconds afterward with your absence. I’ve felt even more so that I’ve missed out somehow. Continue reading I Sing the Body Electric — w4m (Port Huron)
To a Stranger — w4m (Port Huron)
We have spoken — kind of. But this isn’t like some missed connection where I saw you at a gas station, and we notably exchanged glances at a specific time of the week I can recall. Because you’ve rested heavy on my mind as such a low-key constant that I can’t recall when I first or last met you. Just know we have. Though, I doubt you’ll ever see this, and if you or someone you knew did, I doubt there’s a proverbial line between us that stood a chance of being connected. Nothing’s really been missed here. Still, I feel like somehow if I can get this out there, it’ll be easier to sleep at night telling other people you’re a guy to make a girl’s heart ache. Now, it aches a little less, and tomorrow, this feeling will grow even duller. Continue reading To a Stranger — w4m (Port Huron)
As if a Phantom Caress’d Me — w4m (Port Huron)
Driving around in an old car you fill with instruments and bags for wherever you go to make music real. Though I don’t know what you drive. I hear you go to Chicago a lot; I read that you travel around the state a lot, too. I know too much without words, but also nothing. Continue reading As if a Phantom Caress’d Me — w4m (Port Huron)
If We Got Our Shit Together
And the wondering … ensues as walls of oncoming traffic would in commotion with my standing forever blissfully in the left-hand turn lane. Life rushes by and my emotions are so near collision but just out of reach to really know that it’s cataclysmic. Continue reading If We Got Our Shit Together
You Were Mine and Then …
I get an infinitely vague sensation like you’d been holding me — one arm around my waist and the other up my back. Maybe at one point, you’d held me close enough that your breath rushed down my neck amid the slow, automated motion of your chest rising and falling. I can trace the very thread of memories as if I’d lived them until it all unravels in an instant. Continue reading You Were Mine and Then …
Pent-Up Aching Rivers 