Personal

Sunflower in Continual Bloom

three short consumptions for a rainy day

Tattoos, songs, and pokopia

our thick skins wearing thin + life snippet

The bright red drooping buds of flowers speckle the brush on the side of the road, blooming tight against a fence, knocked down by March’s heavy winds and rains.

Life updates and fiction

Pink, magenta blooming in the early spring; your mother asks me how I’ve been and I tell her about my new promotion as we wait for your arrival.

Ramblings on revision

I am revising a story about two men traveling to the coast in search of a magical cure to the disease killing one of them. In this story the forest is alive: a tangled character that is supposed to represent the dark and gnarly parts of their present situation but also the lush and blooming parts of their past.

3 for practice.

I am writing a short story nobody will ever read about harsh winter blizzards, lacquered Matryoshka dolls, and a man who weaves trauma out of men’s bodies.

Nothing left to say

in America you can suffer a mortal wound on a Wednesday afternoon and be expected back to work after lunch.

Thoughts on a failed short story: part two

on writing a short story again and again and again and again

For a latest story (that I started with the title Drought) I worked on this board, so what follows is some rambles about the different parts of the board and what my thinking was attaching/creating them.

plants and songs

At 32, I’ve been spending more time buying and caring for plants. I’ve got 30+ or so scattered around my house now, and I’ll probably grab more as these start to die or wilt or move on to the next cycle of their lives.

Four weeks of a writing course

I started a 10-week writing course a few weeks ago. Joining a writing class is something I’ve been wanting to do for a while. I had high hopes of finding something in Austin that met in person, but honestly, there weren’t many good options.

4 for 4

I spend the early summer watching reruns of King of the Hill and swimming in other people’s pools. In the afternoon, the sun hangs around forever, baking everything in an endless wave of heat and dust and shame. I try and keep cool by hanging out inside or drinking bad beers at bars with funky aesthetics and custom-crafted illustrations for their beer cans.

4 for a sleepless night/morning

At night I dream of returning home from somewhere foreign. I’m not sure where I am: Seattle or Portland, the whole thing’s fuzzy. In this dream I am running from someone. I am all big conversations and repressed feelings.

hi again

In therapy we talk about endings and beginnings, read short stories that I’ve written, and ponder over when I’ll eventually stop coming. We are working towards a final project: a bit of writing in which I envision four variations of my self, split across the timelines, all meeting together for one conversation.

Tuesday

In the morning, wrapped in blankets and the warm safety of each other you ask me to marry you and, sheepishly I agree. This is not a proposal, at least in the traditional sense, but instead a conviction or admission of feeling.

A random assortment of things consumed & consuming me

I told Zach, “Hey this is just like Persona but without all the extra stuff” and by extra stuff I meant battles.

five for the new year

My therapist tells me to be more delusional. “I have all sorts of people come in here,” he says. “Gold-medal Olympians, a woman writing a book, someone who just ran a marathon.

a year of work + 2025 resolutions/goals

On 75mg of Venlafaxine, taken once a day, in the morning.

anyway, a ramble.

and fuck off, i don't have to make a convincing or not cliche post if you don't like it.

A series of moments