Adventures in Skepticism

of pleasure and disarmament / when she stands tall / without garments / on skin, so clean and crystalline / and awefully warm and / prepares for the ultimate scorn

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction

A Welcome Thought

Is it possible for there to be a duplicate of a nonexistent object?

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction


My real name is Tracy. I was born in San Francisco, but now live in Millbrae. I am fourteen years old and obviously too intelligent for my own good.

2 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction

Once a Quiet Eskimo

i’m a legend you can’t contend with / bend with (like beckham) / as i send you out / with my love and my memories / tragedies and apologies / that we circumscribe like sophocles

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction

What Makes You Think I’m Melodramatic?

It was early, and the sun was still rumbling underneath the sheets. The man was shivering in the cold, the wind erasing the rough edges of his scaly skin. Sixty-seven years old and part-time relative to a muttish hellfiend from Harlem, his body shook left and then right in his wastebasket bed. Papers ruffled.

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction

Love as Fiction

Do not mix your HMOs with love. Love doesn’t want to deal with IRAs. Love wants love. It warrants warmth and instant satisfaction. Love is longing. And love is not perfect.

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction

The Sense of Being Paralyzed

The concepts of having nine-to-five jobs, of retirement plans and HMOs, they’re all so against the simple, honest and genuine concept of living. How does one survive by being a two-dimensional cut-up of one’s former self?

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction

Some Sort of Singularity

She went silent. Her eyes glistened, and I felt like the one-liner in a cheap twenty cent romance novel. This isn’t how I dreamed it would be. This isn’t how I imagined my life.

1 minute read   ·  15/ Life as Fiction