A blog of creative and thoughtful writing. Author information at bottom of page. NOW WITH PICTURES

Sunday, August 23, 2015

The Ever-Changing List

I have often been asked what my favorite _________ is, and I have to say that, like most people, the things that I like change over time. Sometimes they change frequently, and sometimes a favorite thing will last for a very very long time. So this is the list, in case anyone is ever wondering. . .


The Neverending Story, by Michael Ende
His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman
Cory Doctorow
H.P. Lovecraft
Scott Westerfeld
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamina Alire Saenz


Twelfth Night, Shakespeare
A Midsummer Night's Dream, Shakespeare
A Doll('s) House, Henrik Ibsen
The Glass Menagerie, Tennessee Williams
A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams
Volpone, Ben Jonson
The Spanish Tragedy, Thomas Kyd

Musicals (Mostly by Soundtrack or Film Versions)

Matilda, the Musical
Bare: A Pop Opera
Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog
Legally Blonde the Musical
Across the Universe
Into the Woods

Films (Non-Animated)

Mean Girls
Fight Club
Scott Pilgrim vs. The World
The Boondock Saints
American Psycho

Films (Animated/Anime)

Lilo & Stitch
Laputa: Castle in the Sky
Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind
Summer Wars
Inside Out

Songs/ Musical Artists

Panic! at the Disco (Yes, even Pretty Odd)
Marina and the Diamonds
Walk Off The Earth
Jukebox the Ghost
FallOut Boy (Infinity on High and Folie a Deux)
I Will Follow You Into The Dark, by Death Cab for Cutie
Icarus, by Bastille
Radio, by Hot Chelle Rae
With You, by I Fight Dragons
Most of Motion City Soundtrack's work.
1000 Faces, by Randy Montana
Toxicity (the album), bu System of a Down
Fury of the World, from Tec-Soul
Twenty One Pilots

Television (Non-Animated)

Doctor Who (The newer stuff)
Downton Abbey
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Once Upon a Time
Orange is the New Black

Television (Animated/Anime)

Avatar: The Last Airbender/The Legend of Korra
Puella Magi Madoka Magika
The Devil is a Part-Timer
Ouran High School Host Club
Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Steven Universe

Video Games (by system)

Kingdom Hearts (Despite the fact that they suck for releasing each game on different platform)
Super Smash Brothers (Nintendo)
Skyrim (XBox)
Portal/ Portal 2 (XBox)
Super Mario 64 (Nintendo)
Okami (Playstation, not Wii. I hated the Wii version...)
Mario Party (Nintendo 64. I pretty much hated all of the sequels.)
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (Nintendo)
The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask (Nintendo)

Famous People (real and fictional)

Queen Elizabeth II
Helena Bonham Carter
Felicia Day
Alyson Hannigan
Neil Patrick Harris
Ellen Degeneres
David Tennant
Sir Ian McKellen
Ron Swanson (Parks and Recreation)
Wallace Wells (Scott Pilgrim)

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Tears Like Rain

Tears have been like rain enough—
Like diamonds, rivers, stars—
So much
That I can’t help
Question the pain
That made a poet say
Tears are Rain.

What was the trigger
That once produced
What was the wrong that reduced
A wordsmith to rain?

My tears are bees,
stinging in my eyes;
They’re poison, scorching;
Knives, carving.

My heart
Complains of tears
like water,
But it’s wrong.
I've learned
Eyes are subtle volcanoes
beside the nose;
Tears are magma,
That while eyes tear,
They’re tearing
Down your cheeks—
with pain begot
from pain.

I think, though,
I forgot those
Tears that are
“like rain.”
they are the same,
But rather rain is more like crying:
Our pain is fluid;
our happy, dying;
Yet through the sad,
I think—I know—
That when they’re gone,
I grow.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

I Break Up With My Girlfriend After Work One Night Without Telling Her About My Terminal Condition

A dank, moist night. I’m on the way home, trekking through smog or fog, past the park and dog shit that the plastic bags missed. Pissed that she didn’t answer my call again, and again she sent me to voicemail. Fog so thick it feels gooey--like phlegm that you can’t quite cough up: you get the gist. Stop in the park 'cause the mucous mist night got me breathing too hard on my jog. I fidget on the bench, pickin’ pimples till I feel the pus between my fingers burst and drain. A rustle in a bush behind me. I jump afraid, but it’s just a skunk. My mind jumped quick to the stank of the skunk, so I jumped back quick so he don’t spray me. He got a streak of white down his back like Trace, in her straight black hair, like that x-man Rogue, but from the movie not the comic ('cause I ain’t that nerdy). Back on the walk  and thought I’d drop by her place since I gotta pass it anyway. Feels worse now like growing mold if I stand still too long. I call her again to check she’s home and she picks up. “Hello?” Hey Trace, it’s me, thought I’d come and say hey and yell at you for ignoring me and maybe hit you around a bit. 

But I don’t say that. I wouldn’t do that. 

Instead, “I’m passing your place can we chat?” And I knock and you come out, face caked with makeup breath reeking like skunk secretion or vodka or jack or whatever you been drinkin. It’s fine it’s over though. That’s what you wanna say right? I don’t think you’re gonna ask me to stay for pork and beans or whatever Chuck the cock-block cheater made for you this mold-moist smoggy night. You’re drunk. Good night. I walk away and delete your digits, but save the pics you sent last night. Gross dank night and a soggy walk home. Get back to the dark apartment no one home except for me. They’re all out at a party or bar except for me. I’m here cutting up a loaf of moldy month-old bread. Why worry about sickness, though, with a tumor in my head? In a month or two I’m dead and they’re out partying and I’m here with my bread and bottom shelf booze in the end.

Drunk Thoughts On Love On A Winter Night

I’d just pounded back
A double and coke
When you asked me how I felt about love.
I was uncomfortably tipsy;
You were already drunk—
You spoke with a slur—
And weighed against me on the couch.
I poured another drink
When you asked me again,
But I couldn’t answer just there and then,
Because I didn’t know.
I didn’t know then
How I felt about love
Or even if I felt Love.
I didn’t know love until many years later—
You asked me once again
In memory how I felt
But I still couldn’t answer
Because you’re no longer here.

I remember that night, though,
At my now-ex-boyfriend’s party
In his slummy urban shack.
We spent the night
Losing ourselves to the night’s ice grace.
Remember when the snow fell
So hard on the tarmac
We moved inside from the fire
We’d set in the rusty trash can?
Remember that busted couch
Where we first traded names?
You laughed at mine for being
Too old for a younger guy.
I remember.
I remember you thought
You were too old for a younger guy like me—
I said I didn’t think
You were.

How did I feel about love
That first night?
I wondered then if I was too young.
I was in school, after all,
And there was distance
In both space and mind.
But maybe I was making excuses.
With your warmth beside me
The warmth of rum inside me,
We dozed and slumped together,
Your gelled hair crunched in my hands.
You fell asleep and left me
To think,
To feel,
And wonder
Whether love is real,
Whether what I felt was love,
And whether that was true.

Monday, February 3, 2014


Uno is a game that I enjoy playing with friends, but it is complete crap to try to play it one-on-one with anyone. Even though the title Uno suggests a smaller group (perhaps consistingof a single individual *pause for weak laughter*), playing against a single partner is terrible. The game is meant to be played among friends (note the plural). In this photograph I have attempted to visualize the way I feel about the game and connect it to the way I feel about the concepts of "love" and "loneliness."

To some who have seen the above picture, the cards read "Love." The idea of love as a game is well known, but does not seem to be a particularly nice idea among romantics. In truth, however, Love can be very much like an Uno game. Despite a nature to have feelings toward more than a single person, the socially correct portrayal of love, at least in a majority of Americans, is that "true love" (whatever that may be) should take place between two single individuals (of course, it's more complicated than that, but I'm trying to be as simple as possible). By forcing Love to take place between two, you make the "game" (like Uno) much harder. It's easy for onee partner to be in control for a long amount of time, but then, in an instant, power can change hands. In a two-player Uno match--and in Love--the two participants are both struggling toward a common goal, and there may be swearing, there may be fun, there may be close misses, and you'll probably think it's over two or three times before it actually is, but then--it ends.

The other crowd of people who look at this photograph (excluding those individuals who just "...see a pile of Uno cards. What am I supposed to be looking at? This is dumb")--they often see the word "Lone." Loneliness can come at any point of a person's life. It can come before a relationship, and after a relationship, but I've noticed that people often neglect to think about the loneliness that can exist within a relationship. When coupled, it's easy for a person's ties to their friends and family--their other loves--to become weakened and severed. In Uno, I think the theme of loneliness is best represented in its name. Uno--meaning "one," of course--suggests singularity and exclusion. The point of the game is to be the only person without cards in your hand, which separates you, physically, from your friends in a probably incredibly insignificant, yet symbolically okay enough for me kind of way.

Anyway: Here's my picture of a bunch of cards.