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Progression of a Writer; day 24

The following note was written in April of last year. I can no longer recall where I was and who I was with. Do we become disconnected from our past? Or does it continue to haunt our present? I sit here contemplating if I am in fact wasting time. If I should be doing something […]

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Friday

You wake up thirty minutes later than usual. It’s Friday, life is good, and the morning is here! The dishes in the sink aren’t a hassle to clean, their chatter as they are washed and stacked mingle together with the songs of sparrows outside the window. They seem ever excited for the new day and […]

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Progress of a writer; Day 23

Have you ever gripped a pen, having its blackened tip just above an empty page? I have spent eons at that precipice, countless thoughts and ideas being thrown over the edge in uncertainty, feeling each unworthy to be made permanent upon the page. So now I simply reflect that there is little else to write about but this […]

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Cold Eggs

The man is in a state of animation.  His body in motion. He is not just another body on the street. Not just walking by with his head held down. His head is up; his eyes out; mouth open. The traffic between us mutes his words, but I can see their effect on his body. […]

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Colorblind, hue #2

I wanted to know the name of every stone and flower and insect and bird and beast. I wanted to know where it got its color, where it got its life – but there was no one to tell me. -George Washington Carver “Five…” Jake slurred out the word, his hands getting sweating as his […]

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Progression of a writer; Day 20

For those interested, the following is a description of the morning of a young author… The author wakes a little before dawn. Not out of practice or discipline but out of necessity from a stomach ache that could no longer be ignored or treated by rolling over in bed. So the author finally rises, first […]

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