Follow the Lighted Promenade

The Haunted Bridge (This is actually a part of my novel in progress. Enjoy!) The bridge was unremarkable, a red and white covered bridge, the weathered paint flaking off and showing the bare wood underneath. Sawdust covered the floor and through the gaps you could see the dry wash of the riverbed, empty after the spring rains had run off leaving nothing but the empty summer to fill it. On the great crossbeams, guardrails, sills of the windows, the floor, the walls themselves, people had written or carved or spray painted names and slogans. One said “Every house has its story.” One said “This rotting soul.” Mostly they were just names, names of faceless lovers that had come and left their idiot mark and then had gone, memories of the bridge fading like the lights of the Midway after the nights revelry. But everyone who signed their names…well, let me just tell you the story. Some of them got off easy. Sure, relationships would end in a confusing jumble of inexplicable hur

Pardon my Heart I am sitting in the climate-controlled emptiness of the computer lab on my lunch hour. I felt so great to start the day, had a good night with Sarah last night. I'm learning to laugh at my childishness. We went to Subway and Office DepotMax and bought Aspen a present at Target (a nice Cubs shirt) and then home. I'm not sure how to word this because I know that you/she read(s) this but I just want to say that I really appreciate you/her. We are both handfulls and neither of us know what to expect at the next moment, which adds to the fun I suppose. (Eh?) Confusing? Good. But I certainly do appreciate these things. ANYhoo, got my printer working (Adam gave me a printer and I haven't blown it up yet) and look forward to self-publishing my short stories so now I can force everyone to read them. But now I feel like CRAP. Just feel cynical, phlegmatic. Waiting for the money to roll in but it always rolls out.

Pay no Mind!

It's nice riding in the early morning, especially when it's as humid as it is today. I get loose quickly and feel...what's the word I'm looking for? Consequential is about as good as I can do at this early hour. I'm still shaky and off-kilter because I had a dream that I was going to be killed by a bear (it was going to maul me) and I woke up feeling like I had just escaped a mauling. Then on my otherwise groovy bike ride, a dog came running after me and was actually nipping at my heels. I don't want to be mauled. I probably rode faster than I ever have, tho. It was a big dog. What I want to know is: if you own a volatile, unpredictable dog, WHY wouldn't you be extra sure to keep him where he can't kill people? I took a long ride yesterday and got stuck in a pretty heavy downpour that lasted about 5 minutes. It was really awesome, I felt like a real lunatic flying through the rain like that, passing people who were walking their dogs and

Oh yeah, the May 14th post just came up. Today. So check it out if thou are inclined. It has a story I wrote, "He Had Lost God."

Been so lonely and I don't know why. I got back from Shades State Park, where I went backpacking with Jeremy and felt just wonderful. That's my element. That's his too. I got back and fell apart, the end of trip lethargy coupled with missing Sarah and the sun-slanted Sunday. The volume in my head is turned up all the way and I have some intense stuff rolling around in there. Hope my metacognition produces something recongnizable, digestible, so all this pain is worth it. I love it. Would have it no other way, but I wish there were an easier way to create. I wouldn't have to call Sarah in the middle of the night and spill myself everytime I got a story. I just missed her last night. I left myself in the newgreen woods of central Indiana and brought back someone who jumps at shadows. My nerves were shot. I feel marginally better today, the shadows have smaller fangs and my nerves aren't quite so taught. What a great trip tho. The spirits flitted just on

He had lost God. There was no doubt about that anymore. Where there had once been light it was now only empty, the emptiness that tasted bitter in the mornings and followed him around his nightmares like the tail of a kite. Lie still and know that I am God. He walked up the abutment overlooking the railroad tracks. White clouds dotted the sky, hanging corpulent against the abyss of blue. His yellow aviators hung down on the crook of his nose, and everything had a dreamy, Technicolor hue, like he was the dusty hero in some bad 70’s drama. It would have been beautiful, but he had lost God. He paused at the crest of the bridge and looked down at the rusty rails, glinting. He remembered leading his congregation, unleashing sermons filled with unequivocal fervor, but the earnestness in his voice was now long gone, along with God. How he would shine when the words rolled outward, when he felt himself not a man but a vessel, the instrument of the Father. In Jesus name we pr

It's raining and damp but extraordinarily beautiful as only a May day can be. I just got done with a writing meeting which always gives me hope for going home and finishing the novel, which is now a distended 85 pages or so. I never write well when it rains, I'm such a product of my environment. There's been a bit of magic around me again. It's been a very creative time, and with that comes the polarity of creation.