A renegade mystic born in the wrong era, but loving the ride all the same. I guess.
The light striking the leaves outside this window makes them look white rather than green. They’re so white I can’t even tell their shape nor what they are without context clues. The point of light is to show us true things—the way things really are. At least, God would agree; he needed it before making anything else. But I also know that too much of a thing is wicked. Too much light and we’d…
Today I’m grateful for my body. It carries me for walks by our pond along that treacherous gravel path. It tolerates the alleged beef from Burger King that I shall devour here soon. It filters. In this Burger King, there is an old playroom where there used to be a playset. Now it is a deserted conference room. How many of these are around now? I wonder how many families bring their kids in with…
I, for one, take no pleasure in being correct . Usually when that happens that means the world is ending . But when the universe proves me right less than a week later , it's hard not to feel vindicated . Yesterday, The Free Press (a publication I adore) produced a piece explaining that the solution to this outage was to "design smarter" internet infrastructure rather than de-couple . I'm not sure…
I must admit that whenever there is a high profile death, I'm always skeptical of the flurry of mediums that explode on the scene afterwards claiming to have made contact with high profile dead people. I am doubly suspicious when those encounters appear engineered to boost ratings for an obscure YouTube channel . However, I've also had enough bizarre things happen in my life to know that an open…
You’ve heard of how wives who are beaten blue return to hell. I used to wonder how one could miss pain. Being somewhere that denied heart and person – can it be that pain I miss? Trade this thorn for that? How could I want to go back to those rolling black waves dotted in trees? A beautiful prison where I stared through invisible cell walls, wearing hidden shackles, sitting in the Grass Bowl—…
When I watched Mission Impossible 7 with my brother back in '23, I was fascinated by the scene where Kittridge shows Denlinger his analog control station for tracking down Ethan Hunt. He explains that the facility is completely safe from the "digitally based" AI-fueled nightmare called The Entity. I had read, of course, that there are files in the U.S. government that are so secret that they only…
Jonathan’s hands fiddle with the lanyard hanging from his pocket. He keeps looking back at his girl, Elizabeth, as if she will turn into a balloon and float away. It’s their first date. Poor Jonathan is nervous even though it’s not his first date. Emily told him last week that enough was enough and moved on to another fish; one who played piano in cafés and bars. He buys his and Elizabeth’s…
I have been looking for a job since September of 2019. This isn't exaggeration; I have been scouring Indeed, Glassdoor, Book Jobs, and any other remotely relevant portal for a job since before graduating Bryan. A job of any kind really. I'm not silly enough to think I deserve anything marvelous right out of the gate, but I would at least like to prove myself capable and responsible. I've looked at…
I disobeyed God by going back to California. Does it help if this time it was San Diego instead of Los Angeles? It had only been seven years since he told me to run. But that had been because of The Cult. This was different. It was a wedding. Which is still a cult. But this time people are holding flowers and are dressed nicer. It’s the little things that matter. Erin collected me at the airport.…
The first time I hurt I was nine. Upright in hospital bed, plastic gown riding up my rear; fear carved on my mother. They told me it was called Staph. They wheeled in charts, graphs, morbid models to help me see how my blood would rot. Vile pus from swollen pipe to the plague’s work site where a sinister cellular mage transmuted blood to poison. We had to drill at once. Even after the surgery…