Crucially, Non-Cancerous
Given the pale faces and dropped jaws that people exhibited in response to my description of the surgery plan, perhaps I should’ve had slightly more sober expectations…
Grown-up Friends
I realized I could sing along to a song or two from most of the regulars, and I’d started making friends.
Tiny Notebook
I felt the performance begin—that stool was a stage and I was an actor.
Let This Cup Pass From Me
It feels a little bit like entrapment when we’re told to commit ourselves to an entire community without thoroughly vetting everyone.
There But For The
You can’t know what you would have done under the strain of such overwhelming psychological forces. And I can’t know what I would have done.
An Interview with Shayfer James: Summoning of Art, Audience, and Self
This is a self given permission to play, to enjoy things without expectation, and to be comfortable in his creative and physical skin.
Confessions of a Deconstructionist
I never never ran away and planted my war flag on the hill of secularism.
I Don’t Think I’ll Ever Write That Novel
I still have dozens of word docs I abandoned in my early twenties in my Google Drive or on my hard drive.
Yet Another Confession About Weddings
I laughed at these wedding magazines, and implicitly, at the women who read them, until this year.
Confessions of a Murder Junkie
At least you aren’t sweating bullets because you put one through a relation on the very afternoon Hercule Poirot stopped by.
