Chapter 2: The Beginning

It was fall 1977 when Nastusia was born. The streets were crowded and bustling with a tension that comes from mixed racial communities everywhere. It was by no means hostile, but there extended over the community a sense of watching and of constant acknowledgement. Only Nastusia’s parents were blissfully and momentarily ( Read more... )

I am currently drinking apple-pear-beet-chard-carrot-celery-parsley juice and my my my is it good. I'd like to thank Kellyn for getting ill and giving me access to her juicer. There is no way to describe how good this tastes, but suffice it to say I am quite happy to be sitting down to write with my tall glass o' nutrients.

On a darker note, ( Read more... )

Chapter 1: A Story

Her hands are bloody. She rubs her forefinger and thumb together and feels the wet, the glistening smoothness of it, and the tackiness. In her right hand, she lets the hammer swing, gripping the octagonal wood base between her fingers and rocking her whole hand back and forth to create the gentle motion.

“Let me tell you a ( Read more... )

Today is November first, marking the first day of a thirty-day scramble toward a finish-line of 50,000 words. I'm psyched. I'm ready to go. I'm fired-up, even. And I'm going to post updates to the novel and on my progress here, because, why not ( Read more... )

Sartre is bringing me new life right now and this movie was, in some strange and still not complete (as Sartre is incomplete) way validating me.