Category Archives: Uncategorized

A Small Indulgence — My Apologies.

Please forgive and indulge me– for the unintended hiatus. I have moved from the urban sprawl just outside new york city to the country of the Appalachian mountains. Not so far down that you can hear the twang of country music, but far enough into the mountains that the faint air of banjos can be heard in the trees. The land out here is truly beautiful and something about it does ring true for me but I doubt that I will stay here, this isn’t the direction I had been meant to go in.

So my point was, though my absence was unintentional, my life is pretty well up in the air. The uncertainty is exciting and pushes me out of my comfort zone. Let’s be true- the woods already have me at a disadvantage.

But I will say this, the woods and the glories of these natural environs have been good for my writing overall as THERE IS NOTHING ELSE TO DO OUT HERE! But in that regard I like it. But there is a time to everything and the silence out here can sometimes be deafening.


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Grave — June 30, 2013

In the shivering daylight

     – of the naked, piercing dawn

Fragile thoughts tied to strings

            – cry for mother’s breasted milk

Like babes and shatter solitude

            – a thousand mirrored pieces

Within the graveyard

            a blanketed mist sticks

Like film, digusting, to the skin.

            Twitching every nerve raw

Madness in my eyes, blaring.

            – a fog horn

The nameless graves, a horrible torment

            a nightmare

The souls and their ghoulish intent

            – screaming

Screaming their names in my brain,

            Loud and noisy

Inconsonant resonance

            – pulsing, pounding, booming

In time to my rushing blood

            – in a language I can’t see

A plucked violin string – hollow, vacant

            – as clear as this new sun in my vision

There is only silence.

Image(photo courtesy of Nick Keen via Flickr)

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Winter’s Night

Wrote this poem (half for a guy, half simply for the love I wish to have) while I was at my house in PA, hopefully there will be an opportunity to make a writing hut/cottage there on the land that will be mine. *crosses fingers* Here’s the poem. I’m sorry if its terrible.
You are the quiet winter moon
Bathed in blue twilight
The woods seemed bathed in day light
A strange sort of day light
The light is muted and cold
and the shadows reign
Darkness is no longer strange
But seems to be a warm companion
For me, the snow and trees
Me, the little animals
making impressions in the snow
Like your smile leaves letters
Quiet secrets in the bottle that is my heart
I can feel your love in the woods
In the shadows embracing the trees that dot the ground.
Cold shadows embrace the lighted trees and sigh in desperate ecstasy
The ground blanketed with snow
that twinkles in the twilight
more precious than fine diamond jewels
woven into an ancient tapestry
whispering enchanting secrets I have yet to know.
I am the crystalline snow
Awed by the light shed by you the moon
I am radiant and glowing
Envious that I cannot be one of the billions of stars
Laughing in the sky beside your glorious beauty
You make the nighttime shine and sparkle
More beauteous than the day
Quiet passion resonated in the silence
All is quiet except for the sky
Reflected in the sparkling snowbanks of my soul

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Books are people too!

Books are people too!

Be gentle and have care, when you crack a book its like you’re breaking their spine and all the guts fall out, literally!

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January 23, 2013 · 4:05 am

the definition of my life.

the definition of my life.

this is me, incase you were wondering…

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‎”Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”

– William Wordsworth

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Writing Locale…

I’m in search of a writing locale. Somewhere that is a whole in the wall, a unique place, a proper cafe, somewhere you see in movies, or delight at reading about in books and wonder: “Where is this place and where can I find one in my area?” I long for a place that will come to my table and serve me — minimal interaction and only when necessary, but somewhere I can write undisturbed for hours, write, read, doodle, anything that I would like to do and feel that I’m not going to be taking up space or that I will be talked about by the people behind the counter for dallying — believe me that’s happened before. Somewhere that sells the right kind of tea (not tazo or lipton or celestial — unless its sleepytime — but Twinings, Earl Grey preferably) and not just terribly burnt or over roasted coffee. The last thing I need is the caffeine, it doesn’t help you focus. I need a place like this if not for the writing space, then to just get out and be free from the noise and confusion of my house, of my life, if only for a couple hours. I desire to be solitary or to have company there, it should be a place that has some people talking but enough quiet spaces and comfy chairs. I’m not looking for a Starbucks or a Barnes & Noble, I’m looking for a wholly unique place, someplace I would be proud to have my picture in that would forever be the place I wrote in. This is certainly a grandiose idea of myself, but I believe that all great people had grandiose notions of themselves, and they were hardly ever wrong, I may say this now, but there is always this niggling curling weedy tendril of self-doubt that worms its way around my ambition, my independent spirit, my strong will. And now I’m rambling… It seems that late at night the world turns off and these little thought creatures come out and run rampant through my mind, I have no choice to but to follow where ever they guide me. But really, I’m looking for a place to inhabit during the day light hours, if I ever do rise for them, where I can be seen and unseen. If anyone knows of such a place in New York, or around the Rutherford, NJ area, be sure to let me know. As of right now that area is my residence and I’m in desperate need of a place that won’t be weirded out if I dumb my bag — completely full of notebooks, pens, pencils, and paper scraps of ideas — out onto a table, and lets me spread out to write away the day. Usually a Sunday, I don’t know why but Sundays lead to dallying thoughts and hours of free time.

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“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Bowie says & I agree, Come on this Adventure with me!

I’m graduating college soon and I’m excited for what the future will bring. I don’t know what will happen, but like Bowie I promise it won’t be boring. Please come on the adventure with me. I can promise at the very least, it will be entertaining!Image

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October 26, 2012 · 7:50 pm