And This Was How

-deep narrator voice- The two found themselves, for the third time in a month, on a road trip. At 8:38 PM. Were they crazy? Maybe a little bit. Maybe a lot bit. But they were happy. And that’s all that mattered.

The Morning

Like a two year old, I’m starting to re-marvel at the mind, and how the people around us can only infer so much from the things we deliberately say. It’s like that quote from Murakami I always circle back to, whenever I feel tired or misunderstood or whatever: “I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while.” … More The Morning

Daily Blog #474 : Of writing and telling people too much

I suppose in the end it’s a desperate struggle to make room for yourself in this world, by leaving behind stories, hoping they’ll suffice and be able to construct a near perfect image of our souls. A carbon dating for the experiences we’ll have buried. It’s terrifying, the yawning void. I used to be scared … More Daily Blog #474 : Of writing and telling people too much

Dreaming at 12,000 ft

We went to Breckenridge this afternoon, and it was all a series of serendipitous synchronicity. We had initially been hesitant to venture outside, since there were so many people on Main Street. Right as we found parking, after we went around in circles, it began to rain. And when it started to pour, all the crowds dispersed, as if welcoming our hermit presence. … More Dreaming at 12,000 ft

The One Where We Get Lost In The Woods And Stuck On A Steep Backroads Dirt Mound In The Middle Of A Storm

There’s an upper level to ruggedness. We all have one. Well. I hit mine today when we veered off the boulder-infested roads, dipped into a steep hill, sped manically through unpaved meadow, plowed on forward towards another steep hill, faced an intimidatingly 90 degrees towards the cloudy skies, and found ourselves staring at the physically insurmountable mound of dirt, unable to move forwards or back. … More The One Where We Get Lost In The Woods And Stuck On A Steep Backroads Dirt Mound In The Middle Of A Storm

Train Station

In a half awake haze, I saw myself sitting at a train station. It looked like the train station on 34st. I was sitting on the train bench outside, waiting for the train to arrive. Waiting and waiting. So I waited and waited and waited and waited. At some point, though, I realized that the … More Train Station