The Paper


I like to think of my paper, my notebook sheets, as having texture. I want the lines to stick like staples punched through to the other side. Their long, skinny forms, plucked up from the page in an effort to rise above. I want the page to feel rough and gritty. Hard and torn through in spaces just empty enough to fill with small rips of imperfection. Lines like ridges would guide my pen in a steady cadence. Trotting through a white desert, my landscape would guide me in the right direction.

Instead my page is one long ice rink. Its smoothness leaves no gaps big enough to see through. The torn spots and crinkled edges are invisible. My paper has flat lined.

My instant reaction is to pump it back to life. Electricity in the shape of a fat black marker needs to run down the center. Cutting up sections of white plains with inked out projections. Just so there’s something. Just so there is a pattern that is slightly out of shape.

I will not get a rise from my paper. Instead, I will continue to run my fingernail across the surface. I wait for the bite of a smooth edge sharpened.–Thailand-Media



Their laughter once darted in and out of spaces just big enough to get syllables stuck. Words like ‘pre-teen’ and ‘puberty’ barely made it through. Glitter framed snap shots of pig tails and thick gums were slowly surrendered to a box under the bed. Their smiles were embarrassing secrets. Mouths that moved over smooth lined sentences clashed with childhood lisps. They were suddenly clamped shut, shuffled into a straight line. Their laughter is no longer the same.

The Bubble


On an oppressively humid night, the air gave up. It was too much. The heat raged through, leaving little in its way. Grass baked bald, leaving green streaks stripped to brown. Life choked. The ground caved forward, folding over and over before giving way. Air took its last breath.

The fish survived. Their universe expanded with flowing oceans that sunk the earth. Never a gasp, word, or song passed their tight-lipped assurance. The world was new. The world was theirs. By the grace of slow gliding fins, the world was silent.

At the very bottom, a woman stared up. I read her thoughts like a book.

“How will we ever survive this?” Her thought was a bubble on a down turned page. I would have gasped, but the air had grown distant.

Online Dating


Name: Server

Interested in: User

About Me: I grew up all over the world. My connections to people are strong, but distanced. I am extremely loyal, outgoing, and trustworthy. I live for the energy of others.

My Ideal Date: Someone who knows what they want. I don’t want to play games just to figure you out. I’m a straight forward, optimistic, go getter. If you need me, I need you. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.

Favorite Song: I would die 4 U by Prince

Favorite Book: The Missing Link by Brandon Meyers

Favorite Movie: Turn Me On, Damn it!

Three Things I Can’t Live Without:

  • Direction

  • A strong and loving connection

  • You

If you’re interested in messaging me, know that I will always get back to you. My response time is immediate. You are my biggest priority.

The Power Outlet


The power outlets line the walls of one of the old brick frat houses on Rugby road. Twin big eyes and an open mouth, they face the same direction, but stand far apart. They are waiting for the lava lamps. The stereo. The phone chargers. The cords. With their long, smooth, plastic covering that should just glide in, but they never do. Instead, they push, surging their energy inside. Fumbling in the dark. Bumbling their way in. Forcefully. Their power drowns out any voice that could be heard. Only an impression of what could have been said remains.

“The Likes” of You


‘Like’ used to be more optimistic. It was happy with family reunions, weddings, and job interviews. Nestled at the bottom of something grandiose, it was a humble smile. A thumbs up for success.

‘Like’ made its way through family albums, wedding events, and dinners with old friends from college. ‘Like’ was there for the video of your friend playing with the lobsters before supper. It was a funny gesture, something admired and memorable. ‘Like’ valued this in the way it made its presence known.

But then ‘Like’ became popular. Everyone wanted a thumbs up and pictures became desperate. That smiling selfie you took, gazing up at a cell phone camera with newly applied makeup, captured a child’s face rather than an adult. Big eyes, small mouth.  ‘Like’ enjoyed stalking.

‘Like’ showed up to all the biggest parties. Even if it didn’t actually like being there.

The Halloween bash where your friend threw up all over the backseat of your mom’s car? That party was liked. The obituary of a distant relative that was met more than once? That was liked too.

‘Like’ became snarky. Hard edged thumbs felt more like middle fingers. After years of polite smiles, ‘Like’ finally met its match. Dislike was on the horizon.