spaghetti war crimes

Sunday, June 22nd 2025 – 3:58pm I’m not a brilliant person. I’m not intelligent, not even that smart. I’m just not proud enough to convince others that I’m some paragon. I’m not brave or honorable or anything of that manner. I’m just weak enough to admit this. I’m a child in the body of a small man, and I say that with no tongue in cheek or resentment to any soul living or passed on because I am not proud. I am me. My ego has died; I have a small bit left over, but day in and day out, I continually work to extinguish whatever sad dribble of it that exists. I am not anything. I am naive, naieve? I’m not even sure how to spell it. I wish for nothing but to enjoy my days in peace.  

sometimes you feel so low and you don’t know why you feel like the world is apathetic to your existence  and if you were gone tomorrow, nothing would change of course, you’d be right but, you’d also be wrong the stock market would still open and close at its usual times the tides would still come in and out the sun would rise and fall, and when the sun departed, the stars and moon would come out to take its place these things would remain the same, but your mother would not your father would not your brothers and sister would be changed your best friend would look upon their reflection in the mirror with blackened hues the light will still shine in your room, but it will be a different light different because it will never touch your skin again the world would be similar but not the same

When we all got news that Hawley was headed back home to Reno, none of us knew what to think. The strongest link in our chainmail, in our holy divine armor, was about to come undone. We had spent countless weeks forging those chains, building what we had come to enjoy for the past couple months, weeks, years? Time has felt odd while in this settlement. One can’t be quite too sure what day it is, what year, what month, what season. It doesn’t help that the weather is perfect with a high of 75 each and every fucking day. Blending the mondays into tuesdays and the tuesdays into wednesdays and so on and so on; so that there is just one blanket of continual day and night that spans for such a time that beards crop out and babies begin primary school. So that relatives pass and that no one can be sure if the ham in the fridge has gone bad. But yea, Hawley’s leaving town. It’s sparked a certain hysteria amongst the group. We’ve all got this trepidation beginning to rear up in our bellies, for...

waterlogged pages bend in awkward ways

          Alexander was a careful young man. He measured up all decisions in his mind before ever taking action. The world of his thoughts was more vivid than the world of forms that danced before him on his cave walls, lit up by the ever-present firelight. Each morning upon rising, Alexander would make himself a fresh pot of coffee. Everyday it was the same amount of the same blend made in the same coffeemaker and poured into the same cup alongside a small amount of the same cream. Alexander measured out 31.8 grams of coffee each day to load into his coffee making machine. That amount was–in his eyes–the perfect ratio for a cup of coffee. Of course, he would only drink a single cup and dump the rest down the sink, but he saw this as a necessary sacrifice in order to obtain the ideal ratio of coffee grounds to hot water in his cup. When ready to measure, he would place the special scale he got as a Christmas gift from his mother on the kitchen counter, do...

father sleeps on our couch he is childlike in posture slumped to his right head resting on a pillow arms tucked into himself i see a twelve year old boy and a sixty two year old man wrapped up at once long day of swimming at the community pool fractured marriage reaching its end overheated from football practice under a sweltering new mexican sun spirit worn by a perturbed son blistered sore feet from evading cowboys and chasing indians childhood sealed by death of both parents while father sleeps it's hard to tell his real age i see a sprawling boy then after a readjustment  of the arms a shift of the legs he is transformed back into an aged man looking with and without eyes i see two different sorts

I fucking hate chess. I don’t know why I suck at it so much. Like, it’s a simple concept: capture their pieces without letting them steal your pieces. So simple but I suck so fucking much. So much! Anyways. Yesterday I went to dinner with one of the girls staying in my hostel room. Her name, I think, was Tsinhe. She’s from China. I first said hi to her two days ago and we spoke very briefly. Then yesterday when I got back from skating, I showed her some of the clothes I bought and got to know her a bit more. I made a little show of pretending to try on the clothing items. It awarded me with a few laughs. I wanted to go to this Chinese place for dinner cause they had rice and miso soup, and I thought that’d be best for my upset stomach. I felt bad asking the Chinese girl to a Chinese restaurant, but I was curious about her. Turns out as we were walking there, the restaurant named Bento Copenhagen is not Chinese but in fact Japanese. Yep. Nice Brennan. When we got there, we realized we ...