You are a shape with ever changing edges; You always think you know it all when you have learned your corners, But remember that you are organic and you grow and swell with heat and knowledge. You only know until you grow; And then you must learn again.
In another attempt to become a more organized or disciplined writer, I am going to start practicing my reviewing skills! Movie Monday will commence here next week, with a movie review and some movie recommendations! As the weeks pass, I’ll put up a permanent page to aggregate all the reviews. Also, feel free to suggest your… Continue reading
Before the sun rises the loneliness eats me, in a nostalgic, delicious kind of way. I assume it was the jet lag in Sri Lanka that will forever resonate with me, that pre-dawn quiet of knowing absolutely nothing about where you are, what you will do, who you even are.I remember waking up that first… Continue reading On not sleeping
My memories are the heat of your body, My memories are the animal breathing of the night we drove hours to meet somewhere in the middle. My memories are like secrets that every lover knows
out there on the muggy shores of the dead sea,I felt the ground shake and move beneath me. out there in black mud and heavy air,salt dissolved and itched and tangled my hair. I went there to be moved and out in the desert,Pangaea herself seemed to tremble with hurt. With purpose I fled to… Continue reading on the weight of salt
I find myself baffled in my defeat, having stayed on guard and defensive for all possible sorts of daddy issued dilemmas, only to be blindsided by a plethora of ideas I hadn’t even considered. Having worked my hardest to find balance against common themes of insecurity and the compensation of male validation in my teenage… Continue reading On parent problems and how you can’t escape them
The mortality and death of one, instantly highlights the limitations and finality of the other. My mother’s actions and presence are a constant taunting reminder of the way time passes unnoticed and one day will sweep her away into memory. Her mothering is ever present in the lacking space of my fathering, and it puffs… Continue reading On parents