New Year, Moderately Different Me.

My mind races through old photographs, desolate sunsets, Asia to Amsterdam, and bodies shaking with every touch, and kiss, a new jolt to life brought forward by a mind-altering epiphany.

You’ve Got Mail.

With broken conversation and fragmented emotions, I sit back and enjoy a glass of wine. Putting my mouth to the rim, a drop of red escapes my mouth and falls to my white shirt. Staring at the daunting stain, my mind begins to wander. Much like my now ruined shirt, Wine stains dwindle on your good intentions causing me to toss the piece to the cleaner.

Walking Forward & Not Looking Back.

Is romance like jury duty? Waiting around for a grand ruling, the ultimate fate is held in the hands of unbiased opinion – The epitome of what it is like to be in the early stages of a relationship.

Dog Whistle Conversation & The Canine Theory.

Drunk on pride and half a bottle of merlot, I sit down and begin to write. During the initial stages of puppy training, teething becomes an act that needs to be nipped in the bud. In a city where men are akin to canines, how do we know the lovers from the fighters, and which ones won’t bite.

Art of the French “Whine”.

The crisp bite of autumn causes commuters to throw on a topcoat and head out into the chilly city. I find that fall has a very distinct smell; I’m not quite sure if it is the fact that everything is dying, but the season seems to fill me with life.   The click of my…

Work, bars, more work & then wine.

Day three in suburbia and I have found myself undoubtedly dying from boredom. I need some sort of thrill in my life as a way to bring some manifestation of excitement. It seems as if we have all moved forward in our lives of the suburban, for we have all attained some form of summer…