So here I am sitting in my morning writing spot. Sure, the tables were rearranged AGAIN and, sure, the new arrangement now has even fewer tables near outlets (question: do they not like writers coming here? I've noticed the group of screenwriters hasn't been here in a while... Have they all sold their scripts, or … Continue reading Zipper


Early yesterday morning—E still up due to insomnia; me just up for a free couple hours before work—I tried to explain why I feel so broken at the moment. Why I can't write. Why any talk of what to write, or what I've been trying to write, is pointless and should be voided from all … Continue reading Broken

Window Seat

E made me a reading spot in the bedroom where I promptly, before he'd even finished installing the lamp over my head, slipped back into Haruki Murakami's After Dark and full-on devoured it. Even though I was sitting before a sunlit window—here, you can see my new view of the fire escape and parking garage … Continue reading Window Seat


Amid the news of my beloved college in financial crisis (another post on the subject is in progress) our own personal financial crisis is in the works. The irony of the two happening at exactly the same time is too much for me for some reason; I'm having a hard time handling this. The thing … Continue reading Outburst


I was out walking this morning, down the empty sidewalks of Broadway, empty because it was early morning and the shoppers have not yet descended, letting gloomy thoughts of the little that I've accomplished so far in this life settle over me. I couldn't help it. The sky was blue but I didn't dare see … Continue reading Negato

Reading Aloud

There was a moment, while reading the opening chapters of this book, when I realized I needed to hear the words aloud. All at once, I wanted to share it with E. Though we focus on different art forms, and mostly read entirely different books, we have a similar aesthetic taste, one that complements and … Continue reading Reading Aloud

The Wall

I've been up against a wall with my writing for some time now. The wall is made of doubt, lots of it, and fear, lots of that too, and it's bricked me in for a long time. I keep thinking I'm brave enough, strong enough, persistent enough to try to make my way over it, … Continue reading The Wall