Mind Within A Mind
After work, post shift. I’m sitting at a bar table bullshitting with co-workers. A glass of chardonnay glows golden in the faux-candle atmosphere and our marble surroundings provide stark contrast to the topic of conversation. “Are you working on anything right now?” I ask the girl who paints. “Nah. I just feel like my brain has been extremely un-inspired...
I know someone unraveling. It unravels me. Powerless to his power, speechless to his speech, I watch with empty sockets as his fuse burns and my string tangles.
Favorite Fridays, pt. 2
Favorite Fridays! Todays feature: destinations! > Amsterdam, Netherlands. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Don’t go, “oh, gee. How typical. A twenty-something who enjoys partying loves Amsterdam. How shocking.” Don’t you do that, because my love for the city of Amsterdam had absolutely nothing to do with legalized marijuana. Amsterdam was one of the most creatively...
Rebecca Deville, the end.
After that night, we never went back to normal. I don’t think Rebecca left the idea I didn’t believe in her. We’d try to go about life as it was; every night I’d take a place with Nick behind the bar and we’d watch as she’d slide into her place on stage and mechanically crank out a song; the world’s only alive and breathing jukebox. She used to captivate the audience so everyone in the bar would...
Where You Could Have
I want to crawl back to you and say I’m sorry, but my nails are caught on the sheets and loneliness drives this desperate machine. If things were different I might tell you I miss you. But, life has gone beyond our control for far too long now. Saying it would feel foreign, overwrought; a betrayal to the fork that bent our road. No… I’ll stay where I am in...
Rebecca Deville, pt. 4
A few months later, Rebecca and I lie in the compact apartment rented above the bar. I looked over at her and noticed her scar, once so faint, was now as distinguished as if it had been obtained in a knife fight instead of a sledding accident. I looked into her eyes, searching for the brightness and glittering orbs they had once held so beautifully, but I could not find them. They were being...
Carly vs. Texas.
I have used this blog as a soapbox only once before. But I will use it again, because this girl right here, is pissed off. On Saturday night, I was galavanting through downtown Austin with a few friends. They decided to head to another area of town, and wanting to stay close to where my car was parked I stayed put. I hugged them goodbye and as I went to leave, my friend yelled after me: ...
Rebecca Deville, pt. 3
If you don’t know what’s going on but would like to, refer to Rebecca Deville parts 1 and 2. That is all. ———————————————————- Nine hours of dreams and confessions filled the car before we were in New Orleans. When we arrived, I was taken away. The city held a majesty...
Rebecca Deville, pt. 2
I was sitting on a worm-holed fence, bordering a farm somewhere inside Ohio. I had never dreamt when the couple driving the car told me they’d take me as far as this state I’d end up in the middle of nowhere. Around me, all you could see were lush green pastures, expanding towards the edge of the world. A single black strip cut through the color and that’s where my hope laid - that someone,...
Rebecca Deville, pt. 1
When I was 18, I fell in love with the music and lyricism of Mason Jennings. There was one song in particular, Rebecca Deville, that captivated me. A heart wrenching ballad of New Orleans, murder and love, it painted a rich story through beautiful melody. I was so engulfed, I wrote a 19 page story (much to the excitement of my CRW 101 peers, who were turning in 4 page stories to scrape out some...
23 years old with brittle bones and a broken smile, wearing non-slip shoes every night just to stumble into the city bustle too tired to light a cigarette. Youth is slipping by each punch of the saturday night clock. She watches it dance in front of her, all smiles at a table and skirts on the sidewalk. But her smile is fake, her skirt is uniform, and she’s here to make...
Favorite Fridays, pt. 1
Favorite Fridays! Todays feature: quotes! “Pay no attention when I laugh. I’m a notorious pervert in that respect.” - Kurt Vonnegut on himself. “I feel so inadequate trying to reconstruct a reality that was worse than my dreams.” - Art Spiegelman on writing about the Holocaust. “Some are strong at the broken places.” - Ernest Hemingway on...
An Exercise in Truth
This is a conversation from a real situation. It’s personal dialogue; a piece of my life that doesn’t feel real. As it unfolded, I thought of how powerful I could make it sound in some story line. But the thing is, it’s already in one - my own. I’ve used real dialogue before, but always hidden beneath exaggeration, fake situations and fictional entities. Another writer once...
Hello my darling 65 followers, First of all, I adore you. Seriously, if I could put you all in a little pen and hand feed and pet you I would. I’d make you into a little colony of awesome, then raise you to be my army when the apocalypse hits and I need to protect the 2 acre sink hole I’ve claimed as Yansaklandia. Second of all, if you have a Twitter - would you please follow...
The Rabbit Hole
I could write myself into a fictional character, call myself Cal or Rose. Ascribe every single detail of my mind into someone else… but it feels dangerous. It feels like ownership of my own life would cease to be mine, and suddenly whatever events I happened to put in front of this figment would become my reality. But isn’t that what needs to happen? Don’t they speak of people...
I was going to write about my current angst over writing (trippy, I know), but felt this photo captured my state much better then words: Sigh. What a cliché I am. And how okay I feel with it.
This Can't Be Good.
The days are still short and the nights long - so it must be Winter. Amidst the warmth lay a chill wanting to come out and spread its tendrils around your neck, but it’s held back. The chemicals and carcinogens and wasteful haze screen it’s existence, denying it the pleasure of making our bones shiver. “This weather is great!” they say. “Fuck, we are gonna...
My blood is scratching at my fingertips and my head is so full I can’t stand it. I’m in such a state of confusion, I can barely see my feet. I just don’t get it - and it all revolves around this: How can I be so stupid? This has nothing to do with my actual I.Q. and everything to do with my emotional intelligence. It’s no secret to me I’ve never exactly been...
F'ed Up Dr. Seuss
If Dr. Seuss were a cynical asshole, I imagine his stories would have contained lines such these: Up she goes and down she springs, what the fuck does tomorrow bring? ————————————- You are the pot and I am the kettle, we both say so much but know so little. ...
Carolina Just Shrugged
I’m going to repost what I wrote months ago, because the sound of salt and taste of Carolina teases not just once, but always. ———————————————————- Last night I dreamt I was in Carolina, the trees all twisted to the coast. The ocean sat steady and the roads were...
I’ve discovered some of the worst problems stem from these subjects: That is all.
Trees twist upward, dark veins of the earth swiping black as white falls around, muting the idea of sound.