A moment or two ago the way Was well-lit Safe passage When the way turned becoming Obscure Lost Or not but so Far-removed From anything That resembles a welcoming No obvious avenue back to Retraced time long gone Only forward Into exponentially expanding Differential timelines Some with such a bottomless murk Like moths The nearest…
Stretched Thin
On how attempts to do everything at once ultimately leads to absolutely nothing.
What Is The Block?
It’s not about demolishing “just” writer’s block anymore (if that is indeed a thing which I really don’t think it is). It’s not even necessarily about writing anymore. I want this to be a space for confronting all the various blocks in my life. I want this to be a space for anyone who wishes to demolish any blocks currently confining them in any capacity.
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We’ve come to this point where every little insignificant thing must be monetized Every single moment weighedcaptured priced and speculated upon for how much engagement it could be worth Don’t take down time don’t stop growing your side game always post during peak traffic Find your nichein the digital landscape optimize those terms Create a…
One Word A Day | On Writing
I stumbled upon a proposition. It was an idea so stupid, so idiotically presented that it couldn’t possibly work but it also couldn’t possibly not be tested.
How To Be Original | On Writing
It’s an age-old problem: How can I be original in a sea of content? How can I possibly create a new, fresh idea when all the good ideas seem to be taken? Or, worse yet: What can I do to prevent my original idea from appearing in some other story before I’m finished writing it?
Coyote Songs | A Review
Coyote Songs is a revenge story. It’s many stories, of the horror of living and the injustice of surviving beneath the ever-present boots of colonizers. It is an epic, a tale of cultures clashing against la frontera in an eternal struggle that seems destined to repeat itself without ceasing.
Back Way
“Hey lady!” The figure called out as they bridged the gap, coming close enough that Evelyn could almost make out human features. “Hey, I wouldn’t go that way if I were you. Some messed up shit back there.” It was a kid, a teenage boy, probably not even old enough to vote. He was walking fast now, just a little short of jogging, hood over his head, his face shadowed as he got closer.