Askew

There is a slight tilt to the room — maybe more than a slight tilt. If you put a marble in the northeast corner of the room it would roll to the southwest corner with alarming rapidity. But as far as Creole cottages go this one is pretty sound.  It has stood here on Royal […]

The Ballad of John

Yesterday I learned, disappointingly, that not only did the invention of the flush toilet predate the existence of Thomas Crapper, but the use of the word “crap” to indicate evacuation did as well; I was left with an unavoidable void.  That this caused any distress whatsoever is probably a cause of bemusement or maybe even […]

Chances Are

It seems I’ve taken to writing about once a month.  That’s probably entirely too infrequently, but lately it’s all I can muster.  I seem to be suffering from some sort of spiritual ennui that my own manner of introversion exacerbates. More simply put, I feel overwhelmed, and more than a little disconnected. It is with […]

I’m Still Here

I still write.  I need to remind myself of that sometimes.  I write everyday.  Most of the time only in my head these days, but I am writing nonetheless. For those who have followed my curious career arc from the beginning of this blog, I’ve come a long way, both in physical and emotional distance. […]

Bookish and Broken

When I was six years old my family moved from North Plainfield, NJ — a suburb of NYC with all of the attendant suburban attributes — to Meyersville, NJ, a small town half-located in and surrounded by a The Great Swamp National Wildlife Refuge.  We moved into the house formerly owned by my Aunt Sharon, […]