Jill yearned to sell everything and live full-time in a motorhome. For her, there existed no stronger pull than the allure of going right to the precipice of civilization and then continuing over without even slowing down. Falling into the unknown, knowing only that it’s the surest way to know you’re fucked. The sultry mix of gas fumes, septic aromas, and barely chilled vegetables rotting in an overworked traveling refrigerator combined to form an irresistible fragrance that marked a life on the move. To pack all of our belongings and hit the open road in search of deep, irreplaceable memories full of irreparable emotional traumas, that was a call she could not silence and her heart refused to ignore. Continue reading


by Jeff

When I was nine, I would go to bed with my arms folded neatly on my chest in case I died in my sleep. Continue reading


I’m drinking my coffee from a garden hose again. My life has come full circle. Or, at least the coffee portion of it has. Continue reading

Father’s Day

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Women’s Studies with Professor Genius

I posted two sexist rants last week documenting my exclusion from events based solely on my anatomy. So it’s only fair that I write one post that says “I hear you, ladies! You get a raw deal too!” Continue reading

I have been to the vortex.

I have been to the vortex and I have returned with lessons. And also very dry skin. Continue reading