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Featured Entries
July 2nd, 2012
The rectangular plot of grass adjacent to the projects is the equivalent of a threadbare carpet. What it lacks in lustrous green, it makes up for with small plastic pinwheels, paint-chipped Hot Wheels, primary-color Fisher-Price figures, and bedraggled plush toys who lord over the kingdom like mangy Godzillas. The breeze animates the pinwheels and stirs what little grass there is. Sunlight glints off the tiny cars. The Fisher-Price kids smile, some tilted this way or that from last night's rain. This is not the most beautiful garden in the world. But it's beautiful because whoever created it thinks it is.

May 30th, 2003
What I remember most about you (even more than your blue eyes and sun-lightened hair and the way both looked, oh so beautiful by cliched candlelight) is that you called my ass a PEACH. When you called my ass a peach, you said it with a straight face. You said it with a straight face but mine couldn't help but break into a smile. You thought my smile was one of appreciation. You were wrong. My smile was one of disbelief. Disbelief that you could say something so totally fucking asinine about this ass o' mine without even acknowledging it.

June 7th, 2008
He woke me up in the morning. I loved it. This is how I want to wake up in the mornings. Afterwards, we ate breakfast together. Later, I watched some old episodes of Six Feet Under. I love it, and I love the characters in it. They are so lost in this world that it makes it easy to love them despite their flaws. In real world, itís not at all that simple to love the messy nutty people around you or the one you are yourself. I guess itís always most difficult to love yourself and especially forgive yourself.