So I may have had a little bit of a breakdown.

So I may have had a little bit of a breakdown.

I used to be a different person. I had no fear. As a kid I used to jump off of houses for fun. I train dodged. I was an idiot. One time, when I was waiting tables this unbalanced whack job with a knife menaced two college girls and I jumped between them. I didn’t think about it, I just did it because it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t afraid. I could name a hundred other instances of me acting “brave” (stupid is another word for it). All of that seems to have changed. I started to having mild panic attacks after mom died in December. When Sandy died it got worse. I think I’m addicted to the Xanax. Yesterday I left the bottle at home. All day I felt itchy. Panicky. Then dad wouldn’t answer his phone. I was convinced that he was dead. I lost it.

I need more whisky.
Maybe I need all of it.

Fuck you.

Here’s a poem:

Time Pieces

He contemplates the fire, hoping that it will cleanse him
but knowing that it cannot. At night, in the cold
he dismantles his dreams, packs them in a small valise and
leaves them anonymously next to a bench in the bus station
for some broken stranger to find. Perhaps they will be better
served by the detritus that he is ready to discard.

Hope, love, sex, god, faith.
These things she tumbled through
her fingers like so many dice to be
shot, or tossed, or rolled against
a wall of loss and sweet misery

He measures his life in degrees
by twisted car parts strewn along a highway
and memories of things to come
and bottles emptied after the house is quiet.

He never wears a watch anymore.

Here’s more blogging:

I used to believe in things. I was a committed liberal. Social justice. Civil rights. Gay rights. The environment. Animal rights. The fight against the death penalty. Ending the immoral, illegal war. Socialism. I campaigned for Obama. I worked for my local Congresswoman (who lost to a half retarded ass hat). I thought that we could make this a better world. That’s crap though.

I always knew that the universe is deterministic. We lack free will, and even if he had it, it wouldn’t matter. Nihilism is the only rational response to the horror of existence.
Fuck all of it.



  1. I’ve got a new piece of flash fiction. Called “Fiction Anonymous” do you mind if email it to MotD.


  2. Email it to you for motd.


    • Send it.

      And I’ll get back to you on that other thing soon. My A.D.D. has me way behind.


  3. it breaks for me
    it bleeds for me

    I pick up the pieces

    not because I want to


  4. is it that girl in your basement?


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