Mind Nomad Writing

I am a mind nomad, wandering within the landscape of my creation.

Category: Uncategorized

  • Since humanity emerged victorious from the dark primordial swamp and began to stand upright and use tools, no instance of societal organization could find a solution to the challenge inherent in frayed ends. For a countless number of other inventions the point of dysfunction simply spurred new innovations and a return to function, if not…

  • here is where innocence evaporates into an atmosphere of realism. even sleep is void of dreams. every word is stripped of sentiment. all truth is drenched in cynicism. this is self-help at its finest. subtle criticism was the only sound that poured from his father’s lips. never an affirmation of love, simply a hallow embrace.…

  • i sit beneath the glowing neon sign, that hangs in the window, as it flickers twice and then extinguishes itself. the day is done and the people are heading home to be with their wives and kids. to feed their dogs and watch their tv shows. to eat their warm dinners and sleep in their…

  • Do you remember that day in grade school when your teacher, with her glasses resting on the tip of her nose as she peered down into your naive little eyes, shattered your perception of reality? She came into your life uninvited and, with words like a sledgehammer, smashed everything you thought to be true. You…

  • A collection of short stories – no binding themes aside from the ones a reader may find meaningful on a personal level.

  • A collection of writings processing the experience and implications of being a child placed into an adult role early in life.  The collection makes room for considering the impact of outgrowing ones’ parents’ own emotional resources at a young age, intuitively knowing this yet not fully understanding, and being tasked with navigating life on these…

  • I think I have a lot in common with furniture. I can be quite helpful, pragmatic, and useful. I’ve gotten used to observing the coming and going of those that forget that I’m around. Being seen and not heard always came easily.  I’m not sure furniture asks itself the same kinds of questions I did…

  • My mom wrote in crayon and my dad spoke in binary code. A lovely compliment one might think. A unique environment for a child to grow up in one might imagine. A well-rounded set of instructions many would posit. An eclectic ‘must be a fun kind of atmosphere’ many would assert.  Assert as many would,…

  • I watched as my parents lost their parents.  I stopped, my breath caught in my lungs. I waited for their response. I watched to see how they would fare. Would this wreck them? Would they recover? I sat with the ghost white mother who feared the demise of the man she knew as her father.…

  • Magic Johnson taught me about the ‘s word.’ Not directly, of course, which isn’t to say he wouldn’t have. In fact, I’m pretty sure Magic Johnson probably would have been willing to sit my scrawny punk ass down and share the cold hard truth with me. In fact, I’m almost certain he would have been…