“What should I be when I grow up?”
“You can be whatever you want to be. Just be happy.” Continue reading
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
When I was twelve, my aunt bought a trailer and dropped it in a gravel parking lot in Monticello, Indiana. It was her summer home. Every weekend she would drive the two and a half hours to sit in air conditioned gloom and read while my cousins bothered her for quarters to play at the arcade that was further up the lot.
I’ve been feeling really bad about myself lately. All of my blogger buddies are getting into anthologies or winning awards and I have a bunch of worthless, unfunny posts drafted. And the one post I’m willing to publish is just me whining to my few readers about my craptastic writing. Probably the stupidest route to take.
This post is either going to be really funny or just pointlessly gross and inappropriate–and therefore, funny. Let’s find out together!