How much of writing is re-writing? How much of living is re-living? I sip my coffee. I remember the voice inside of me croaking out; she’s hoarse; she’s deep; she’s poised. I remember shouting for someone to love me. Men. All of them. Love me. I remember this voice changing. Going dark for boys with… Continue reading Your Writing Voice
I am witnessing a miracle: the convergence of philosophies and religious beliefs from those who have previously lived in opposition to one another.
What did you do to pass the time? She said, checking her watch. Digital. Big. A thick gold cuff around her wrist that made her bones look even smaller.
When the sun bears its bright light and all of earth seems to sing. I bask inside the colors and let life rise in me.
Sometimes I forget that I’m creative, that I came here, in a sea of traveling light that can illuminate even my darkest ideas. “What’s wrong with me?” is the mantra that has created elaborate worry. Illnesses in my head, potential threats and warlocks, taking over the healthy parts of my body. Making them dead. Dizzy… Continue reading tonight, i forget. tonight, i remember.
When troubled for things to do, read. When down or stuck or bored, read. To hone your articulation, read. To sharpen the thoughts in your mind, read. Before and after editing, read. Instead of automatically checking Facebook, read. To sober up, read. To get drunk, read. I say this not to make you a better… Continue reading Yo, Whatcha Readin’?