Welcome to the next episode in “My Life is a Bad Romance Novel”. Let’s try this chronologically because there’s a sh*t-ton of crap I gotta get out this time. First, I’ve started eating chocolate for breakfast. Why? Turns out that…
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Love Story of Someone Who Writes Love Stories
Some months ago I was reading an Author Spotlight on Eliza David’s page and it started off with what I thought was a fascinating bio about the author. It said something about her being unlucky in love, a hopeless romantic,…
The Knife Fight, the Mysterious Goats, and A Sweetly Smiling Neighbor
Re-blogging one of my favorite blog posts about a knife fight I walked into, the mysterious goats I kept hearing, and my sweetly smiling neighbor 🙂 Happy reading! Everything I Can Possibly Cram into a Single Blog Post Alright, so…
Running Away with the Carnival
Some years ago, I overheard my aunt telling my mom that her niece had run away with the carnival… again, leaving behind her navy boyfriend, who chased after her and tracked down the carnival encampment. I was like, “Wait! What?…
Pics Taken on a Sleep-Delirious Trip through Prague
This past Thursday evening I took a random six-hour round-trip bus (three hours there, three back) to dance swing for three hours in Brno, Czech Republic. I discovered that, nope, I can’t dance it for sh*t, but I still try!…
My life, in little bits and pieces
I’m waiting for a tram, and as mine comes up to the station, the tram driver has shining blue devil horns. While I’m in the tram staring out the window, the tram rattles past a drugstore where the cashier has…
Posted in Blog
Nightmares He Did Not Make
Once upon a time, I promised a story (written by my writing group) to anyone on my mailing list who had a story idea they wanted written. A brave soul named Emma presented hers: An aromantic/asexual fairy tale. What is…
Tagged with: aro/ace, aro/ace fairy tale, aromantic, aromantic asexual fairy tale, fairy tale
Posted in Blog
Posted in Blog
Blacked-out Childhood is a Scary Place
I think I moved into a more violent place. Not as in people are brawling on street corners or anything, but I hear arguments through the walls. Screaming matches when I’m near my window. Words from next door I can’t…
Posted in Blog
A Patchwork of Scars (A short story)
In the chill, relentless rain stood a girl without a name. Her skin a patchwork of scars and motley bruises, her body an untold tale of torment. Memory played truant, an imp dancing beyond her grasp, laughing as it withheld…
Posted in Blog
A Tooth in a Jar
There’s this guy in my apartment building – a young guy – who’s missing one of his front teeth. Maybe from a fight. Maybe from a bad diet, who knows. I’ve met him a couple times on the stairs. Today…
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