When I was a kid, I would draw spooky night scenes. There’d be an old, scraggly tree sitting atop a hill and lightning coming from ominous looking clouds. Sometimes, I’d try to draw an owl, but every time, I drew a gravestone that was cracked. I wrote RIP in big letters before I ever knew what it stood for. I always thought it meant something scary. I came to find out it wasn’t scary at all, it was actually kind of sweet. Rest-in-peace. I like that, I decided. Hopefully, one day I will.

The Golden Hour


“It’s the golden hour.”
That’s what they said as the low, light slipped into the banquet room. They leaned in when they said it and made picture frames with their hands and held it up to their eyes. They laughed big and careless, like people who loved well and I was glad to know them all.

I hope I’ll get to celebrate like they did. With off-white bulbs hanging from the ceiling and uncles and grandmas, cousins and old roommates dancing underneath.

I want to believe in love, but I’m not so sure. Most of the time, I seem to be one step behind them like I don’t know the moves to a grand song playing in everyone’s ears except mine.

I suppose that’s how we all feel with regards to something that makes us doubt and question and second-guess and falter. So when they raised their glasses, I raised mine too, though I’m certain I’ll never know like they seem to.

100 Movies every guy should see



I don’t talk about movies much on my blog anymore, though I am interested in what makes something a “guy movie” and what makes a “chick flick.” These labels give me pause because they are inherently divisive and probably more sexist than we realize. I also noticed how many of these movies star an all-white, male cast. Representation, or the lack of it, in media and movies is an extension of the culture and I’m curious what lists like this one say. Complete, well developed movies will captivate across the gender, racial, religious and cultural spectrums, but is that what we are getting as consumers? With all that said, there are some awesome movies on this list, and all I’m saying really, is I want more mind-blowing, awe-inspiring movies and less gender-marketed garbage. I also made it through this post without using the word “problematic” … damn.



I am a writer. Well, at least that’s part of who I am. I can’t help but think that I might not live to see any sort of success at this craft I’ve grown to love. Perhaps I will die with all these poems and songs and words inside my head.

That thought poses more questions than answers I’m afraid. What is success? How do you measure it? Is it anything like trying to measure intelligence?

I once wrote that all a writer can do is hope to change one brilliant mind who will in turn, change the world.

I am a writer. At least that’s most of who I am.

Dare me?

I want to do it.
Do you dare me?
I’ve put myself there.
In good position.
I’ve stared down the barrel so to speak.
I’ve cracked it open.
I’ve fit the noose.
I’m no longer speaking In metaphors.

I drank too much again.
Finished the bottle.
There was no secret fortune at the bottom.
Guess that’s only in cookies.

It’s spinning mania. It’s thick with red wine and cheap beer. I’m quoting myself again. Narcissism.

Thinking too much of myself. I’ve heard selfish a few too many times. Be careful what you say to someone on the edge. Call them selfish again. See what happens.

Step back into oblivion. Step back in time. One two step around the issue. Keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact.

There are two knives in my room. One was made in Germany. The other is my grandfather’s who was German.

I hold the first to my arm. “sometimes i wish I could slash my wrists and end this bull shit put the magnum to my head and threaten to push it until the beds completely red.”

Biggie knew.
Do you?

The other says, “Serve God” on the handle.
Maybe I should give the advice a try. Maybe I already have.

I can’t do it with this one. I can’t dishonor my grandfather like that. Fuck honor. I can’t do it with this knife cause I love my grandpa. No need to bring hot buttons like honor into it.

Life is beautiful and is meant to be wrestled with. I’ve come to learn there’s so much beauty in pain. Can’t you see it?

I put down both knives, thinking of my mother’s eyes.

It’s those eyes the ones you can’t forget. It’s the walls speaking with regret. You want to die? Now’s not the time.

Porch lights on and it’s aglow saying things you’ll never know. It’s thick and swirls round your mind.

That songs about a girl who followed through. I should know. I wrote it.

Contemplating is not the same as pulling the trigger. But make sure you leave the safety on.