I stand atop the Sand Dunes at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo, the blood of Christ, my back to the wind. The sand swirls around me, my pockets fill with it, and my feet sink in it till I am buried up to my ankles. There are grains of sand in my teeth
Jack began to think the wound was superficial because there was no pain. Sure, there was pain when the knife went in, sharp and cold, but now there was nothing. He was numb. Sleep. That was all that was needed, sleep. Just a little rest and everything would be okay… Jack opened his eyes, blinking
I had the privilege of hearing Kurt Vonnegut speak once toward the end of his life. I was overwhelmed by his humor and humanity. He was a unique and brilliant individual. The video below showcases that humor and his skill. So take 5 minutes to be thoroughly entertained. Who knows, you could be inspired
I am driving home from work in the rain. The traffic is heavy and I am upset. Not at anything, in particular, just a strange combination of angry-sad, non-focused malaise. I have a feeling of something is wrong, there is something missing. And the rain is coming down and I can’t see and that jackass
The past is not romantic. It is not an adventure. It is not a drama. It is neither a comedy nor a tragedy. It is not any of these things. But it is all of these things. Because memory cheats. Memory will take fragments of events, disjointed and vague, and merge them with hints of
It is a question we’ve all been asked at least once at some point in our childhood. And the answer, at least for me, would change depending on the time and place or the frame of mind I was in. I can remember most of the answers I gave and the reasons behind them for
It is Independence Day. There is red, white and blue bunting hung from porches and windows. The air has the scent of smoke; it’s there in the background but always present. You almost don’t notice it...
Once, a long time ago, I lived in a house near the edge of the world. In the winter, when the air was still, I would lie awake at night and listen to the Ocean, to the waves. Relentless. Never-ending. In my mind, I could see them. They would turn and curl and fall forward
"And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all." "The Masque of the Red Death" is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe originally published in 1842. It tells the story of a group of wealthy nobles attempting to avoid a plague by hiding in an abbey hosted by Prince
Once, a long time ago, I stood in the sky far above the world. The observation deck of the World Trade Center was more than 1000 feet high. The windows were wide, floor-to-ceiling glass. The first thing I did was press my nose against it, my hands beside my face, fingers splayed wide. I looked
