My words are my lifeblood spilt, splattered across pages, and dispersed over the internet in hopes of making connections with hearts that beat in time with mine. I’m a cheerful malcontent—by that I mean I’m a fucking mess of optimism and white hot rebellion. I write about my aversion to organized religion and the corruptContinue reading “Let’s Get Real”
Braeden created a new award to show appreciation for the writers of WordPress. It’s a simple, genuine acknowledgment that speaks for itself. The only thing you have to do when presenting the Treasure Chest to a fellow blogger is write about why you love their blog. The nominee will then pass the Treasure Chest along–soContinue reading “Treasure Chest Award (created by Braeden Michaels)”
15 April, 2016, I published a dreary poem–my first post here on WordPress–now celebrating its first birthday. Nuts to me, I didn’t even bake a cake. A glass of wine will have to do–a slutty jam jar of blackberry Merlot. Tastes like Sunday Mass. Eternally October In his dreams, she dances In and out ofContinue reading “Sláinte Mhath!”
Though fiction is my truest passion, I do love writing foul-mouthed social commentary–mostly because I love swear words and my (highly esteemed) opinions in equal measure. Ha! But for realz, I love writing. Always have. I was the majorus dorkus in school who enjoyed crafting bodacious term papers after spending obscene hours researching the goddamnContinue reading “About Me: life as a writer (part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5–I’m Alive!)”
Though a work in progress, I am happy to report that The Bridge Magazine website is up and running, as is the Facebook page, which I have plugged into my blog homepage here on WordPress. Please visit The Bridge Magazine to read my essay, Pride vs Pride, and be sure to check out the other awesomeContinue reading “Pimpin’”
So, I’ve been preoccupied with writing my election coverage article for The Bridge magazine; our debut issue is scheduled for January 1! I’ve just decided to take a break from work, perhaps conjure some fiction, or compose a poem. But, fuuuhhh, my brain is incapable of braining at the moment–unable to change trains.