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A Night To Remember
I came home and couldn’t go back to bed without cleaning my kitchen countertop with my hands. As I cleaned, I thought of Brandon and how he was a human like me and not a hand that refilled my hot water, brought me extra napkins, or cleared out the empty plates on our table.
But, hey, here’s my ask. I want you to listen to those quiet crackles in the background, the ones of desire and longing to be the best you can be. The ones that feel forbidden, and the ones of love that don’t follow any norm. And you know what I think?
Read the essay HERE.
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When Life Happens, You Write
When you’re a writer-at-large, you let life happen to you. That way, you let your eyes steal everything that you see, put a spin on it and spill onto paper / machine some “stream of consciousness” kinda cool stuff. And if I am a true writer-at-large, it’s only fair that I must observe, muse and write about it.
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When Life Happens, You Write. When you’re a writer-at-large, you let life happen to you. That way, you let your eyes steal everything that they see, put a spin on it and spill onto paper / machine some “stream of consciousness” kinda cool stuff. And if I am a...