Memoir is the honest recollection of experienced events. These are true tales of things I have seen and done.
I once sat upon a rooftop in Jericho.
The sun hung high, yet somehow felt closer than ever before. The rays beat upon my newly tanned skin and cut through the streets of dust like high beams in the Illinois fog. Sweat flowed from every orifice of my body. Excess salt crusted upon my forehead. My shirt became a rag soaked in the oils of human exhaustion.Read More
Back in high school, there was a day known as cup check Thursday, and It was nothing short of hell. All these years later and I’m still jumpy on Thursdays. I doubt the phantom pains will ever cease. Truth be told, I still miss the adrenaline of it all. Oh, to be sixteen and without forethought. There’s nothing quite like it.Read More
An American Spirit cigarette hangs from my lips as I step into the cold darkness of the late night, though I suppose one of a different perspective could easily enough interpret it as early morning. I stand under the wooden walkway of the second floor. It acts as a sort of awning, shielding me from direct exposure to the all-encompassing darkness that is night. The lamp to my left ruins the solitude I was hoping to find peace in. I contemplate unscrewing the bulb, so that I may properly enjoy my loneliness. Before I can reach for the bulb, I overhear my neighbors arguing about spoiled pie and stale cake. What’s the point. If not the light, then the noise will slice through the night.Read More