Nothing about him is gentle or soft. I look at him, standing strong, trying to avoid the lure of muscles twitching under thick white cotton. I want to reach out and touch him, to feel skin on skin, but I can only wait.

Later, we are alone on a hilltop, and he is shirtless in the heat. I try to focus on the distant view, think of anything but the way my heart rate begins to increase. As he moves towards me, he has no idea of the feelings in my head.
Torturous almost.
Wars have spiralled from less passionate...

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I'm awake but my eyes are stuck closed. What times is it? 7:30, am I reading this right? I should't be surprised, I haven't been able to sleep past 8am since I turned 30. Suck.

It's a Tuesday, my Monday.

Two clients: one with big expectations and another with big confusions.
Trying to launch my first iPhone App as a side project.
Need to get back to working on my own startup company.
The ocean pulls me to surf, the rocks pull me to climb.

But today is a "work" day, which essentially means that it will be lumped into...

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I counted the Braille dots on the "DOWN" button for the 43rd time.

Then I counted them for the 44th time.

And the 45th time...

No longer satisfied with simply counting the dots themselves (there are always 18), I was now counting my counts, which, at least, were never the same, though always increasing.

Have you ever been stuck in an elevator? Neither have I. I am inexperienced with this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do while stuck in an elevator. I don't know what other people do when stuck in an elevator. I don't know what Jesus...

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Waves. The sound was the first thing she noticed. She had to be somewhere near the ocean. She took a moment to register her immediate situation. Her right hand grasped a jutting piece of rock, and her left held tight to a thick branch that had somehow taken root in the cliff face. Her feet rested on a narrow ledge of rock that was no more than a few inches. She was thankful for her small feet, which her mother used to say were her best attribute.

She had to be at least 20 feet up. The ocean was too...

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There's somebody standing in the corner of my room.

I think they're me.

I mean, she - think it's a she, the lines are fuzzy - looks like me. A bit, anyway. She looks how I could be. Maybe how I should be. But she keeps flickering and altering - maybe she's just a potential me.

Or maybe she's all the potential mes.

I step closer to her - I can't tell, not really, that expression keeps shifting, but she seems to be happy about it, I think there's a smile (more smiles than frowns, anyway).

I open my mouth...

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Her breath rose from her body in swirls of ash. The air wheezed from her as you would expect the air would travel through a burnt husk of a body. Each night she burned, crumbling into herself, waking in a bright fury with the morning sun. Some called her a phoenix, a goddess of the volcano, Pelée.

I was a lowly stream, trembling, trickling in her wake. The heat of her caused my innards to boil, and the creatures would leave me. The earth heaved with her breath, the tumbling rocks rolling, the sparks floating away with the grace of...

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Majestic words like maelstrom, preponderance, warbling swirl through my creative whirlpool, pulling in pieces of conversation, tail-ends of admonitions, the lilt of swearing. I live by the calendar, fitting my days into the squares, x'ing the boxes at midnight.

Friday is the wave that crashed but hasn't withdrawn to the sea. I'll compose this in the spiked surf.

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An aura surrounded her.

He couldn't describe it, couldn't explain it, couldn't put it into words. It was beauty.

She raised her hands, opened her mouth, flexed her diaphragm, and completely, irrevocably drew him into herself.

Her song permeated him, and the light that bounced off of her transformed his eyes into bodiless, empty receptors: everything else faded, his body, his chair, his table. There was only the Vision.

Then the song ended, and he was left floating in the smooth, absent, come-down buzz of the empty amplifiers.

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Our eyes locked right before she went for the stuffed duck. I watched her bite it with resolution, shake her head back and forth like a dog. Her eyes met mine again with a clear and concise message: "My duck."

The duck became her best friend. I hardly talked to her unless she was eating my food. Then I yelled. It probably wasn't the most mature thing to do.. but what the hell. I fell in love from afar. I fell in love with her maple brown eyes, with her glistening nose, with her adorable whimper. She didn't know it...

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Travel light, but take everything with you. Words that my grandmother used to say in wisdom. And words that I've never take to heart till now. The twister ripped though our neighborhood and everything I owned was taken with it. My Children and wife stand now where our Kitchen was. With a heavy sigh, I remember those words my Grandmother used to say, I truly have all I need standing in the kitchen.

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