Where am I exactly? Has anyone seen me?

When will this rain stop.

Assemble the wreckage.

Destroy it all.

Why can't it be me?

I cannot afford my own life ( Read more... )

Jessica HarperShe is the mother to twenty thousand fools. Though I repent and resolve I am granted no reprieve from her inexorable tides; I wade eagerly into the beautiful and inviting waters where my feet find no purchase, drowning again and again. Each time I promise I will have learned my lesson, to be mindful of the descent, but the compression ( Read more... )

As a young man attending the University of Walamazoo in the autumn of 1932 the world seemed a fat oyster brimming with fortune, whose pregnant wealth was ready to spill in gushes for the right person with ingenuity enough to jimmy it out. The whole of humanity caught its breath. The industrial revolution, as it was being called, had thickened the ( Read more... )

Our first encounter came in the summer of 1981. I was eight years old, living in the sad-colored brick apartments in the shadow of the interstate where my mother and I had burrowed in like stowaways, sometimes peering out our barred windows with fear at the world that seemed to give no purchase to hope nor faith. With my father gone to a place from ( Read more... )

I thought I owned everything that Sanrio had to offer. Mine was the labor of a lifetime; a rewarding one that afforded me the prestige of archaeological hobbyists across the moon. Some had quipped that the pursuit of completion had stretched my head a bit, but what little frazzling around the edges I had experienced was long since meticulously ( Read more... )