The Anti-Inspiration Blog
My mind is in a cloud. I can’t seem to write a thing. Words and images knock at my skull begging to come out, but the cursor blinks idly on a blank document: In desperation I search for inspiration. Take a drive, thumb through art books, read a poem or two. Cursor, still, blinks. I look to past thoughts I’ve scribbled down and marked as things I might use, one day. Some...
The Insomniac Letters, pt. 1
sleep… — i know you’re in there. — i can feel you, tip toeing around, never putting your foot down hard enough to leave a mark. — i saw you earlier, dark as a cave, whisking around the corner to pull at curtains you refuse to shut. — i don’t get it. you’re so close to the surface, yet you never show.
Brody sat at his kitchen table. He had no idea what to expect. Overwhelming anxiety, grief or denial could pass over him at any moment. Aren’t there steps to this?, he wondered. Six hours had passed since he left the emergency room - six hours since he laid his hand on his friends clammy forehead. Damon’s face usually had a sheen on it, a small residue of the happiness that never...
Cheers to Us
Feeling inspired? Is it starting to brew? Whirling and twirling and moving about so everything is beautiful and the world is abound with wit; even the slightest jingle of light brings a smile and surroundings are for you to drink. Cheers to us, eh? Those of us who get to consume the world.That indescribable slight of breath, it’s potent: an intoxicating absinthe when lit to flame, takes us...
An Informal Rant.
Life can be so incongruent. Motives can mismatch intentions, emotions to situations, actions to words. Half the time we may not even realize, yet when you’re aware of it, it can blow your mind. My life is at a complete contrast right now. Since I’ve moved to Austin, I’ve had some very hard hits. I mean, sucker-to-the-gut-punches. Some of which I will not put down on a public...
It's the high.
I was up until dawn, thinking of all those late nights that used to make me feel so fulfilled. It’s funny to look back on them now, drunken blips of monumental importance we could never remember the next day. Through a blurred headache I’d look at you and wonder, was any of it real? Or was it all a bad night of whiskey cumulating to melodrama? I never knew. I was never really sure if I...
Harry. Harry Bosworth’s day starts out like every other day of his life. He rolls over at six thirty a.m. to nothing but a frigid imprint of mattress where his wife should be. This imprint has been there for three years, one month and nine days. It used to make Harry feel shameful, but after a year of permanence the paint had finally dried on the wall. He would walk the ten steps down to...
The Bottom Line.
“What does she have that I don’t?!” I’m watching fictional characters plead with each other on T.V., and when the question is blurted I want to step into their non-reality and ask: “does it matter?” A problematic characteristic of people is we’re always wanting to understand why. We never accept something just for what it is - we need to decipher it...
Carolina Just Shrugged
Last night I dreamt I was in Carolina, the trees all twisted to the coast. The ocean sat steady and the roads were never ending. “I’m only back for six months,” dream Carly said. “No,” an unmarked face and outstretched hand replied, “you’re here to stay.” With salt on my breath I tried to say it wasn’t so but Fate just smiled and...