Fiction, Life, Writing

Salt Meat: Part Four

Oh God. No. No, no, this isn't happening, it can't be. He'll calm down, relax his hands and uncurl the fists he keeps hurling at my face. I swear to God, he's not a bad guy. He just gets emotional. And jealous. He thinks I'm cheating on him. If I lay still enough with his… Continue reading Salt Meat: Part Four

Reading, Writing

Twenty Books In 2015

It feels like I've been reading for a million years. I was one of those weirdos in school sitting by the fence, nose buried constantly in a book, hardly ever speaking or making direct eye contact with other people. By the time I was in second grade, I was reading at a twelfth grade level,… Continue reading Twenty Books In 2015

Fiction, Life, Writing

Salt Meat: Part Three

PART ONE | PART TWO She says it's a game. He's asleep, he won't notice if we take the remote from him and watch YTV. Baseball is boring and he started snoring fifteen minutes ago so it must be safe. So we crawl across the living room, our matching track pants loudly scraping the carpet,… Continue reading Salt Meat: Part Three

Fiction, Life, Writing

Salt Meat: Part Two

“YOU CAN'T SAY THOSE WORDS IN THIS HOUSE!” My father screamed. He stormed into the living room, where I had set myself up with a blanket on the floor. My mother stepped in, eager to defend me. “She's not saying SHIT, Charlie! She's saying CHIT, like a squirrel!” But my father would have none of it. He was enraged that I had dared to defile his house with my prepubescent profanity and I would therefore have to be punished. It was a long time before I would be able to read aloud again.


Salt Meat: Part One

If dreams are your brain recycling all the shit you shovel into it every day, then Salt Meat is what happens when I recycle what I've been through and force it out in writing. Names, places, details -- all changed. Not everything happened the way it's written, such is the nature of memory. This is… Continue reading Salt Meat: Part One


Things I’m OK With.

Older, always getting older. Lines I never had before (and only I can notice) have begun appearing on my face. My chubby cheeks are a little more sunken because age attacks your face first and then the rest of your body. But I'm not one to talk, I'm 27. I can hear folks older than… Continue reading Things I’m OK With.


Right, So About That…

Surrounded by half-filled cardboard boxes, a layer of dust settling on everything, I've decided I need a break. Today has been more productive than the entire months of August and September combined, and I feel cautiously optimistic about it. I washed a month's worth of smelly dishes, did a month's worth of smelly laundry, and… Continue reading Right, So About That…