February 2011
January 2011
wait, when did i get 233 followers?
i need a computer.
words →
One Cream, One Sugar: Part two, "Charlie"
It was a rainy March day. Robert was sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. His whole life, chicken noodle soup was his soup of choice. Some people say it’s good for your soul, Robert always thought your soul needed more than that, but it was a tasty meal to warm you up. Mid-slurp the phone rang. He slowly put his spoon into the bowl and turned around to the...
1 tag
1 tag
too many deaths for one year.
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the soul needs more than chicken soup.
One Cream, One Sugar: Part one, "Jeremy"
A little black book sat next to the old-fashioned, turn-style telephone in Robert’s kitchen. He never knew when someone would call looking for someone else he knew, someone else that he was. Every time that phone rang, Robert would slowly stagger towards it, with out any sense of urgency, not caring if the call went to his answering machine or not. Sometimes, he even hoped it would. Today, he made...
we are not the same, for I can tell between a dream and reality. I am alive. I do more than exist.
tonight on my way home from lakewood, I drove the speed limit, even below at times, the entire way home. it just felt so good to not be in a rush or have some where to be, or worry about changing lanes or driving too fast. blue sky noise was playing and all I cared about was enjoying that. it was nice.
Gave the last three dollars in my wallet to a homeless lady. I’ve given her money before too, and she always tells me how blessed I am and how grateful she is and she kisses my hand.
how is that not worth some change or a couple bucks?
well, with part one.
done!
A little black book sat next to the old-fashioned, turn-style telephone in Robert’s kitchen. He never knew when someone would call looking for someone else he knew, someone else that he was…
1 Cream, 1 Sugar: an Identity Anecdote
? title for my next short story.
new short story idea?
nice.
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and though these well known roads may feel like home, and my hands are maps that guide me through, beneath my feet is a floor, and above my head, a ceiling that are begging me to be somewhere else.
we live as owls and bats, preying on late nights and area codes
eeversosweett:
seriously, i have a problem. checking tumblr/twitter/fb is basically compulsive now. HELP
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
it’s not the girl. it’s the undies.
WatchAdam Gray. ask me if it sucked having to play after him.
WatchAdam Gray. ask me if it sucked having to play after him.
