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The First Date, or St. Valentine’s Day
That first kiss. It’s so full of possibility. Excitement. Joy. Nervous-ness. Angst. No matter how old you are. No matter how comfortable…
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A Treatise on David Foster Wallace (12 of 90)
I am staring at David Foster Wallace tonight, surrounded by my newly filed writing projects for this semester. I am staring at…
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The Plan (10 of 90)
I started writing today’s post, a rather in-depth treatise about my five-year plan. The first explicit plan I’ve had in my life.…
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90 in 90
1. I preach to my kids: write every day. I should stop there and clarify that sentence. Because I don’t exactly have…
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Standing in the Shower…Thinking
Sometimes I float. I couldn’t tell you exactly what brings upon these moods in my life anymore than I could tell you…
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Techno-Files, Or Why I Learned To Hate the Coast
**Greetings Gawkers who found me through this piece or this piece. Remember to tip your waiters and waitresses. And the 1030 show…
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“I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again”
Prologue. Curveball. The last time I held a baseball bat, with any seriousness, was May 1990. I remember because of what I…
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“Kick Out the Jams”
1. The first movie I obsessed over, in the kind of way that can only be felt by the young, was Pump…
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“And if the night runs over/And if the day won’t last/And if your way should falter/Along this stony pass”
1. The average lifespan of a white American male is 78 years old. I am 37 right now, which means I’m screaming…
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Blimvisible: Us
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This Cabin Thing
General Butler State Park. This is my writing refuge. The place I go where there is no other place for me to…
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Spaced Oddities
The night sometimes wraps itself around me. There’s an oddness to it that I can’t quite explain. Emptiness and hollow, a long,…