Sometimes, the writing can scare me.

There is a moment immediately after the creation of art, art in any medium, where one can notice the expanse of what has just emerged. Is that awe? Not fear. I guess I find that awe to be scary in a way.

Is that mine? Did I do that? Those questions are okay.

Past Imperfect — a nostalgia for a time as flawed as our own but without the awareness that tarnishes the now. The wish to be dumb to the follies of society without acknowledging the persistent presence of folly throughout time.

For me, Coney Island is memory. I was born and raised at the nadi...

I find it hard to disengage for the sake of silence. And this is true even though I appreciate the silence once I am there.

The world of distraction is just so easy, so simple, so few clicks away. And, for me at least, embracing the Luddite life tends to leave me too much of a hermit for me to bar...

As I wake to write once again, I find that all my mind can focus upon is the strike. Creatives and the studios built upon dreams — dreams sold or licensed to those who saw in them the possibility of profit — locked, not in a dance, not even a trudge; more of a slouching wobble. A crooked motion, h...

I have a persistently uncomfortable relationship with social media.

But, usually, I can justify using it because it has become the only reliable medium to maintain some connections in recent times. And, if I value those connections enough, the cost of not maintaining that link outweighs my discomf...

I took a day off from journaling yesterday, just one day, it shouldn’t have really been an issue. But, this morning, I felt resistance get between me and the page in a way that felt familiar to me a little more than a month ago.

It wasn’t a conscious decision not to journal. The day just had too m...

Winter just fights to hold on, and does not go gently. Even a mild winter, like this one, with only the rarest of harsh, raw days, refuses to retire in favor of spring.

The ground is still hard and grey. Frozen from the year before. Life has not broken through, reasserting itself.

Even so, I rel...

A month ago, I set out to publish a blog post every single day of the month of February. In the beginning, I had no idea what would happen, how it would go, anything really…

I did assume that if I could develop the muscle memory of doing this everyday, that I would find it easier to sit down and e...

The news that Facebook and Instagram would be joining Twitter in charging for verification got me thinking about the state of social media and where it is going. The old business model for a social media platform was simple enough to understand:

1. Platform grows to have a large amount of users i...

Three too many cloves of garlic. That’s what it takes to get the apartment to smell of soup. I let it simmer over the lowest heat as I come and go randomly adding a vegetable here, some chicken there.

It thickens over time, as the broth becomes.

And I wash the rice, before I toast it in a bit of...

Gazing at the night sky, I try to let go of the shapes that I know. Dippers, and hunters, and heroes — bears, sisters, and swans.

I try to relax my focus and invite the night to shape itself.

Without the shapes, the stories can defy words. They are a tale of the moment that cannot be told, only...

So much is going on out there. Often, it is completely overwhelming these days. Too much. Too fast. Too intense. I honestly cannot keep up anymore.

Am I getting older? Sure. But, I don’t think that is why it can be too much to bear. I think the world is just too much right now. Too much to proce...

Cold Readings — you either love them or you hate them.

You have very little insight into the script. You don’t know how the scene is going to resolve, let alone the entire story. In a way, it can be scarier than improv because unlike improv there can be a wrong choice that you’ll need to go back a...

An unpleasant churning feeling — that is the feeling I am left with after spending time on social media recently. That feeling is getting worse, but I don’t think the social media content is getting any more challenging per se.

Maybe I have just reached my own personal level of maximum toxicity?

Often, I take a quiet hour or so out of my day, and walk a loop up and behind the campus or down to the Connecticut River and back home. And it can be amazing to do this in silence.

My body starts off arrhythmically stumbling out the door and dodging a few cars. but, relatively quickly a pattern s...