A story. Fiction. Yeah, fiction. I With steady hands, Greta gripped her lunch tray, and through the crowds of jerkoff jocks and bimbo clones, pimply nerds and green-haired freaks, she marched to her empty table in the cafeteria. They were no more to her than noise. She laid down the tray and took a pad … Continue reading Heaven’s just a bus ride away.
“Ooo, that was brutal.” The woman in the white robe dropped into the chair. “Oh, it’s brutal alright,” the other woman in a white robe replies. “I don’t remember it being that brutal.” In a white robe, I glance up super quick and then back down to my journal. What was brutal?! It’s not my … Continue reading Oh the joys of womanhood, by a confessed hypochondriac.
Sometimes when I’m in a creative drought, I’ll walk around the mall “weirdo hunting” which is doing exactly what that sounds like. You find someone who looks weird and you follow them around. Bonus points if you’re bold enough to tail them to another store. If I don’t locate a weirdo, then I know that … Continue reading When your fictional characters are like animatronics that you designed yourself.
Eleven days into July, not much to show for it, at least not that I remember. Time is like that for me now. If I don’t write things down, I have no memory of them; there are barely even blurry impressions. Once again, I’m in the throes of a sort-of bout of health anxiety. I … Continue reading Doctor, must you belch and remove all doubt of your credibility?