Category: other writing

  • it is beautiful, it is sad

    It is unbearably beautiful, and it is unbearably sad. I am sitting on a bench in a quiet corner of the botanical gardens, and I am trying to pinpoint, once again, this emotion that has been a constant thrum throughout my life. People drift by, and I can almost feel time, its inevitable essence, flow…

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  • summer nights, couch

    Cool, light breeze whispering in between the curtains; carrying that gentle summer night. I’m undone, on the couch, each second breathed in and out, slow steady thoughts, slow steady life. Lights dimmed, record player spinning, each note dancing, intertwining dna with that summer wind, murmurs of the world; it’s okay, it’s okay, it’ll be okay.…

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  • An ode to space

    There’s something about space that’s so terrifying and humbling that makes you want to grab the people you love and never let go, because what we have on this little blue dot of a planet is all we have really ever known. The photo the Voyager took in 1990 never fails to strike a deep…

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  • Gone Now (Album Review)

    Gone Now is the second album by Bleachers (Jack Antonoff), released June 2, 2017. After listening to it many, many times, here are some of my thoughts on it.  Gone Now feels like a story. Like a tragedy simultaneously unfolding and being dealt with, all between music that isn’t devastatingly sad, that isn’t energetically joyful,…

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  • untitled feb 12

    untitled feb 12 The street is dark and deserted, only barely illuminated by the last one or two lit windows in the distant building. I take my earphones out and let them fall into my jacket pockets, taking in the bitingly cold world at 3 am, silent apart from the slight crunch of my boots…

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  • The Fear of Forgetting

    Something I wrote a while back, thought I’d post it. The Fear of Forgetting There is nothing, nothing but a deep, heavy silence left, sinking to the very bottom of the bones; lead weight in the marrow – no birdsong, no rustling of the wind and the leaves, no laughter, no buzzing of the insects,…

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  • in dreams

    in dreams A sunny, hazy Sunday afternoon. A stretching meadow, a light breeze lightly parting the strands of grass back and forth. Silence. You lie between the daffodils, arms spread, face to the sky. Like those snow angels you used to make as a small kid- those times, so far away. The air smells like…

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  • You tell me to be myself

    You tell me to be myself. What do you mean, exactly? When-if ever-is self a constant solid pivot point, and whenever is it not a variable constantly changing, renewing, rediscovering itself, with change as certain as each passing second? If life is a constantly flowing river, then self in my eyes is less the rocks,…

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  • Cure the feeling of insignificance one word at a time

    Cure the feeling of insignificance one word at a time, I see it in your eyes, how they drift in the daylight wondering if what you’re standing for is really right. Can I offer you some late night comfort, cough syrup triumph for all the struggles you’ve endured for your name? Come on, we all…

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  • What’s so great about oxygen?

    What’s so great about oxygen? It’s not sweet or gentle that you need it in your lungs, in your system, every living moment, breathe it in- without it you collapse and burn, your body gives up and folds in on itself. What’s so beautiful about that pointless, primal hunger, “I need you,” oh man, I’ve…

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