Uncategorized

Twelve Ways to Serial Killer a Visola

I promised my friend T I would write this, but not in the way I actually ended up writing it. For that I am sorry. For the rest, oh yeah I'm absolutely sorry. This is the most ridiculous thing but maybe I can't write serious things anymore. They are in the particular order of not… Continue reading Twelve Ways to Serial Killer a Visola

Uncategorized

BASS 1998; Harlem, 2005

This summer, all summer, shootings have been on the rise. I am working on vignettes about the present. But also, I think about Bob Owens all the time. Our last hug as I left the city in 2009, presumably forever. How I pulled back after squeezing tight to ask, "What the hell is wrong? You're… Continue reading BASS 1998; Harlem, 2005

anythingbutthenovel, dumb (poems), writing

Self-destruction is so played out/So is self-pity and self-doubt

So, I impromptu read at an open mic on Sunday. It was the late-oughts last time someone got me on a mic where I wasn't rabble-rousing or just stalling for time. I thought about my Kung Fu test when a board member asked me to do a form as though it was a poem where… Continue reading Self-destruction is so played out/So is self-pity and self-doubt

anythingbutthenovel, writing

Sly updates without social media notifications

Here's a flash piece written for a contest I did not win. I incorporated two pieces of feedback in this update. What you need to know about those pieces of feedback: I still can't keep track of time. It's nothing new, but maybe it's new that I understand how it connects my writing and my… Continue reading Sly updates without social media notifications

Uncategorized

Meditations without Focus

I call a friend to let them know I’ve read too much news. One hour is fine, but anything more is dangerous. We jokingly say, “Call a friend.” I remember it being connected to a gameshow, but I have no idea why it’s still funny. Whenever worry strikes, I think of who I know is… Continue reading Meditations without Focus