I enjoy writing of all types from technical instructional manuals to journal entries to poetry and more. In many cases this is just a way for me to arrange my thoughts, be able to replicate something I’ve done, or work through things. For journal entries, it is a way for me to somewhat reliably remember an event. From what I have heard and read, the human brain does not store memories in a “read-only” fashion, so each time you revisit that memory it may change and that change may perpetuate to the next time it is “remembered” and possibly changed again. That is why some of my journal entries end with a note that too much time has passed since the event so I do not trust that all the details would be true at least to my perception at the time. On the other hand, a memory is more than just facts. Sometimes the feelings around a memory or thought will take hold resulting in a short story or an essay. Those are the sorts of things that you will find here. Please enjoy (or not) these brief glimpses into my mind and accounts of certain days in my and my family’s life.
I: Death She stood above me at the top of a long, plush staircase—each stair padded with a thin layer of foam and encased in a red velvet shell—holding the spiritual implement of my death in her sticky, blood-stained hands. Her yellow shirt was paired with white shorts, white knee socks, white shoes, and a […]
I cried that evening when we parted; she slipping silently into the comforting cloak of darkness while I drove away into the night bound for my empty shell of a home filled with no one and no thing except meaningless material possessions. I could still feel her presence beside me even after she left. She
Voices were ringing in my head—Fragments of conversations; photographs of peoples’ lives.Small tidbits of information invaded my essencethen became lost in this massive melting pot of humanity.It has gotten to the point where my own identity is foreign to me.Do I have an identity, or am I just a receptacle—a shellwithin which people throw bits
