I used to tell you about a dream I had about living in a small place up in the woods. I always imagined myself writing in a little studio with the quiet humble comforts of a warmly peaceful surrounding. In my thoughts, I pictured myself in a Continue reading
A Day In My Life
There is a little flophouse motel between North Birch and North Ft. Lauderdale Beach Blvd, which is also known as A1A.
Just beyond the edge of the better hotels and resorts like The Ritz Carlton and other pricey names of well polished accommodations, The Seville Hotel and Apartments was tucked inside a mid-block location.
The rooms were small and the walls were terribly thin. The floor was Continue reading
From The Book Of Firsts
(A prayer written from last night’s campsite)
Dear God,
I have been leaving messages for you over the last few days. I’m not sure if they are going through or if you’ve had time to check them with your schedule being as it is. In order to feel close to you, I took a climb and headed up Dater Mountain between Breakneck Pond and the Continue reading
For a Dad and His Daughter
It’s called gastroenteritis. I was never really sure what this word meant. I was very young and very sick with this. I think gastroenteritis has something to do with the inflammation of the muscles in the stomach and intestines, causing terrible vomiting and a list of other problems. To me, gastroenteritis was just a really long grown-up word that made no sense and kept me sick.
I do not have too much memory of this bout of mine. The memories I have though have lasted with me throughout the decades. Aside from the hospital stays and the needles they poked me with; aside from Continue reading
Life and the Hike
We started the hike just after 7:00am.
Heading a short ways down Haverstraw, we parked the car in a small lot off the side of a quietly unused road at the edge of the woods near Diltzes Lane. This was the start of my fourth true hike and my first true test of endurance. My pack was not light, by any means. With the exception of my tent, sleeping bag, and mattress pad; I carried all that I would need for an overnight stay, which is a plan that will soon unfold.
Marking the starting point, I pulled my water Continue reading
Bizarro Fiction: Lust and Blood
It’s called paranoia. It’s part of social anxiety.
It’s part of lunacy, they say, but I call it life. . .
Delirium slips in under the wire, like a surprise visitor, and it dwells as a voice in your head. Can you hear it?
I know I can.
First, the craziness comes in like a slow and subtle storm. And you start to second guess yourself. You wonder things like, “Is anything really worth it?”
You wonder if it will pay off and when.
“When is my turn,” you wonder, and Continue reading
Real Fiction: A Hard Glimpse of Reality
“I come through shattered pieces of an amazing image
soaked with moisture
lying still
. . .and waiting
I’m waiting for another wave
or another way
to beat the system
and escape symptoms
She dives for me
angry—like the wind when the storm picks up
She dive for me like a hawk towards its prey
and sweeps me away Continue reading
Letters From a Son
As a man, there are things I would like to give you. These things are not something that can be bought in a store. They are sensitive to time because time is of the essence and a fleeting aspect in our life. Some of these things I would like to give lose their option with time. Life steps in and the window of opportunity closes. This is fact.
I never gave you the opportunity to Continue reading
thoughts from the bus
Waiting to move, I am sitting on a bus, tired, and my body is sore from the long day which ended a long week. It is not much different—this day between the last.
The momentum is no different; neither is my routine or me as I am, older, grown, and halfway towards a goal I set out to reach a long time ago.
I am no different in my approach and no less dedicated achieve this thing, which I call, “My trick.”
I am sitting in an aisle seat on an outbound bus, huddled in a close proximity to dozens of strangers that undergo the same routine as me. The woman to my left smells from bug spray. She is somewhat large and dressed in all black with sides of her head shaved and frizzy purple hair on top. She stares Continue reading
I remember
I was thinking about the words sung by the late, great Bob Marley.
“Good friends we’ve had.
Good friends we’ve lost—along the way.
In this great future, you can’t forget your past.
So dry your tears, I say.”
See, I remember when we used to sit on a concrete bench in Prospect.
We were young and daring. The entire Continue reading
