Today, someone I never met took his own life in front of his neighborhood church. Today I looked at all he presented himself to be online, a helpful, wonderful, productive citizen – and I would have never guessed he would ever have wanted to take anyone’s life, much less his own. Every piece of his online persona was so warm and wonderful. Today people that knew him are grieving, and baffled, and angry, and my heart hurts for them. Read more

My friend invited me for casual drinks and “catching-up”… over beers she told me she was getting a divorce.

(This is my first attempt at voiceover with music, what do you think?)

photo credit:

I misplace words like spare keys.
Dropping Fuck You into situations that later will be impossible to get out of…
I’d love to where a rather not belongs…
Heaven Help Me tossed across an unmade bed slides down between
the headboard & wall
a plea lost for weeks found only after searching
…on hands and knees…
A Thank You glares from an empty counter-top
waiting for me to remember the obvious…
I want you tucked away in the tiny front pocket of my jeans
smoothly pressed into warm thighs…
disguised next to my cell phone as I’ll call you…
It’ll be ok toss high in the sky by hands that have already exclaimed all is lost
…there is no turning back…

I will tie them into my shoe laces
maybe let them fly out in the rhythm of my run
maybe let them clink and tinkle against one another
for a moment it works
for a moment I have them all together
for a moment I am a fucking thesaurus at break neck pace.
Then mid stride all is lost
in place of it nothing –
leaning on the buzz words of my neighbors hoping I’ve left the front door unlocked.

*yes, I wrote it.

photo credit:

This was my most popular post – up until I moved my site over and lost all the comments and other crucial settings & gizmos (doh!)  I did find the post again somehow, and am reposting it for your viewing pleasure.

Been trying to find my writing voice lately. I think perhaps I had it, and then lost it when I realized that people were actually reading what I wrote. Isn’t that interesting that I put these words up, I put them out into the open and think that no one will see them, that by casting such a little thing such as a sentence fragment on this or that strand of the world wide web – such a little piece of my authentic self – that no one will notice. But then they do, and I change what I write, to protect my soft naked underbelly. It’s silly really, to think that publishing something online gives my voice a safe place to hide – but that’s what I thought, or at least felt, I can’t say I gave it much thought. So, that’s where I am. Understanding the irrational feelings of vulnerability, and looking for some balance.