My Rather Random Life

Here we are again. A few years older and a few years wiser. More experienced and ready to take on the world. Or maybe I am just in a very prolonged manic state. Either way, I am setting my aim higher than ever before with my current endeavor. Which is throwing together a niche magazine with my friends and family. And I am taking back to using this blog space to hone my own writing skills. From my understanding, if you don't use them, you lose them. And I don't deal well with loss.  Which brings me to something that I found recently; the spark of motivation and creativity that was sucked out of me for years by people who took me for granted. Be that fellow writers, old bosses, or internet strangers. I wasted the most formative years of my life entertaining and inspiring people that equally wasted what I gave to them. All the time I spent creating worlds for other people, I forgot to create one for myself. Someday, I may go into length on the reasons why I can no longer write in

  So, I will start off with saying that this is something I have been avoiding for fifteen years; writing about this subject. The day my cousin died has had an everlasting effect on me. It changed nearly everything about my world in one fell swoop and I am still dealing with the aftermath after all these years. The events of that day have been a river of strife for me that I still seem to be crossing. I am hoping that in writing this, that I can relieve some of this depression and grief that I’ve been holding onto for what seems my whole adult life.    I’ve been known to wear my heart on my sleeve sometimes and this is one of those times.   A couple days before my cousin passed away, my wife’s grandmother also died. The night before the funeral, she stayed with her dad, aunt, and uncle while I stayed home with my cousin and his wife. My cousin didn’t stay in long because he went out to party with his other cousins. Which pretty much led me to just hanging around in my room all night an

So, I am going through my cloud drive and found a ton of old writing. I figured I would share a short story I wrote a few years back. Be warned, it's probably not very good and NSFW. October 29 –Purgatory & the Need to Know  Rain poured down in near horizontal sheets as the cross country bus I was riding on skidded through a red light and nearly hit an oncoming semi-truck. For a second, I held my breath. The whole ride had been madness. A few days before, we were passing through the Rocky Mountains and nearly slid through the guard rails. We would have all plummeted to an icy cold death if it weren’t for the driver, as he snapped awake at the last possible moment.   The day after that, the driver had to kick a violently angry man off the bus for threatening a pregnant woman and punching her husband in the face. I remember that man’s glare as we drove off from the bus station. The cops were slapping the handcuffs on him and tossing him in the back of the squad car. He kicked and

Don't let the title make you run for the hills. It wasn't THAT kind of face full. Though it was almost equally disgusting. But we will get there. Right now, just listen.      When I was 16, my grandpa passed away. Well, he wasn't my grandfather by blood. My folks adopted him in their own way. He lived above the pharmacy where my parents worked. To call that place a dump would be an understatement. You know those stories you hear about roaches the size of a finger? Those were the kind of roaches crawling around his place and through no fault of his own. The place was just trashy and not well-kempt by management. So, upon seeing his living conditions, they let him move in with us when I was about four years old. And for 12 great years, this man helped raise me and my sister.      Let me tell you a few things about Grandpa. My parents weren't around a lot, so we were left in his care a lot of the time. We were closer to him than his own kids were. The man was maybe five fe

"Trap House":  A term used to define a crack house, or the surroundings in which a drug dealer or (trap star) would use to make their profit. Also referred to as "up the way". Thank you, Urban Dictionary.     In my younger and much wilder days, when I still had hair, I took up residence in a house that could match the definition above. Just without the crack. If you were looking for most anything else to alter your perceptions, that was the place to hang out though. It was loud and dirty. Grungy and hardcore. Somewhere between the gutter and the stars. Some nights there were even mini-raves with glow sticks hung from the ceiling fans and that abominable techno kept me awake. Needless to say, there was very little chill there.      Having lived there for some time, I got familiar with a lot of the faces that came through. It was mostly a younger crowd. Around my age and a couple years younger. A few of these folks I knew since they were little snots who were coming i

     Before I can even get into the conversation this man and I had, I have to explain a few things about him. Dale used to be a roadie for a bunch of 90’s bands; The Offspring, Soundgarden, and Dave Matthew’s Band. That’s just to name a few. Suffice it to say, the man knew music. Which was a subject of many conversations. The man also sustained himself on dry cat food, cheap beer, and sunlight. Dale was no stranger to the couches of his many friends. My couch included. Mainly because wherever he laid his head was where he called home. Not homeless, but a true old-school punk who knew the ropes. Or a beach bum that got stuck in the Midwest. A tall, tanned, wiry man with long, wavy auburn hair. Dale was in his mid 40’s and seemed to have never outgrown his youth when it came to the way he partied. Often showing up drunk or high wherever he found himself. He was one of those “Whatever you have, I will take.” kind of addicts. Though, I don’t hold any of this against him. This is what made