I’m nothing but a bored matador waiting for the horns.
all those times I should have died. It’s concrete, I can’t change
gored, adored; my fate laid at my feet
victory or the jaws of defeat?
It’s so easy to leave
it’s a motive, I deceive
it’s so easy to leave
it’s a motive, I perceive
you can’t take me anywhere
a bull in a china shop
1:33 pm • 24 June 2014 • 1 note
Anonymous said: I just stopped by because I had read your story "On the Road" in BROKEN CITY and I thought it was excellent. It was honest, interesting, and with excellent metaphors. I thought, when I read it, "now HERE is a writer." I'm sorry you missed your graduation and even sorrier to learn why. You are that special snowflake. Really.
Wow. That means a whole lot!
9:57 pm • 1 June 2014 • 1 note
Anonymous said: You are a beautiful writer.
Thank you very much.
2:17 pm • 23 May 2014 • 1 note
The internet is a vast and endless echo chamber, so much so that it seems pointless to even attempt to connect earnestly with someone, anyone though a personal essay. With the faceless masses so eager to criticize, with everyone so hype to validate themselves even the most heartfelt attempts at catharsis can be construed as a desperate cry for attention. I’m skeptical about personal narratives and how effective they can be.
I didn’t go to my college graduation and I regret it. I didn’t go for a number of reasons, first off the idea terrified and bored me. Why would I want such a massive metaphor thrust on me— especially on a hot day in May? Why would I pay $70 dollars for a bed sheet and a hat I’ll only wear once? Why would I want to watch Bill Cosby (of all people) ramble incoherently about a college he once attended and a city he was so terribly out of touch with? Was there really anyone who needed to see me symbolically walk across a stage? Rhetorical questions, the answer to everyone one: I dunno. But there was a big reason I didn’t go: and it was because I was afraid.
What I was really afraid of was that my college graduation would become a repeat of my high school graduation.When I graduated high school I was immediately kicked out of my house by my father. Literally immediately, I had yet to even remove my cap and gown before being made to exit his life. The catalyst is kind of funny lemme set the scene: 18 year old Kendall and his grandmother sit in the back seat, while his father and step mother sit up front. Kendall is asked where he’d like to eat for lunch. Kendall suggests Red Lobster. For a reason I still cannot understand this threw my father into such a fit of rage that he hurled epithet after epithet at me, and began to berate me about a number of my prior failings, most notably a flat tire I had gotten a few weeks prior. I spent that entire summer before moving to Philadelphia living in my grandmother’s house.
9:54 pm • 19 May 2014 • 3 notes
I am an orphan, my father figure
"which lunar phase are you?"
The full moon, well I—
will you howl
at natural satellites
I would be always receding you
the lovely dark surrounding.
who’s in wolves’ clothing?
to be at night a loathing unmatched
the myth of a firmament
of a fossil father
replaced with ether,
replaced with absence,
with I see no god up here.
9:50 pm • 10 May 2014 • 4 notes
Temple University dormitories The Edge and Morgan Hall from a rooftop at 15th and Jefferson.
6:51 pm • 28 April 2014 • 2 notes
Stopped at a light, this guy jumps out of the passenger seat and washes his hands. Spot the Arizona ice tea he was rockin’ too.
6:45 pm • 28 April 2014 • 2 notes