& we wall ourselves in, again & again, with our own skeletons, snakeskins, fake lens

do you Grok? i don’t mean that in a “do you subscribe” kinda way, or “did you enjoy Heinleins work” way. im talking much deeper than that.

one Friday night, after a lengthy debate about something i couldn’t have cared less about in our philosophy of religion class, i made my way from our chateau through the woods to the Eurail. i wanted to go to Dresden, Germany. i sat staring at maps at the train station until i gave up, flipped a coin, landed on going through Frankfurt instead of Prague. i wasn’t too concerned: i’d gotten used to figuring things out along the way and it felt “right.” the weekend past i had spent in Paris, which felt “off” before i began, i lost a pair of underwear there, so i decided to go with my gut on this one. Frankfurt it was.

what soldier comes home free from war? what mind can hold still, unseeing horrors? what hope is left once you’ve tasted death, drank deeply from an empty cup, lifted lever up in the name of duty?

in 9th grade, i was suspended from school for three days for writing a story about a woman considering abortion.

excerpt from “passing cars”

“good” and “bad” appear as human-made concepts created centuries ago to explain how we felt about all the stuff that “happened” to us:

growing up, my musical influences oscillated between old time country and church music, tho there was always a tipping point for my dad where something in the day needed Clapton, or Creedence Clearwater Revival. some very clear and hopeful nights held Pink Floyd.

when i was a kid, my dad wasn’t really my dad. biologically speaking, i inherited his predisposition for diabetes and addiction, though he wasn’t himself when i was young. he was trapped in a war that was over before i was born. so, my uncle stepped in. he did everything for me that my father couldn’t, and what’s more, he never said a word about it. he didn’t judge my dad for not being whole, instead he gave me what i needed so i could stand regardless of how the wind blew.