What it Is

I have proven myself a failure at being consistent. Methinks this should be a place for me. Maybe not the collected me that makes sense. More like the me that likes to be. To wonder, to plan, to think, to understand. I want to write everyday. It is my hope that this is the blog that will facilitate that goal.

I dont make any promises. You could still call this my creative blog. But I'd like to think of it more as the debris that is left behind after all the normal thoughts blow through my consciousness.

Don't expect it to always make sense or be worth your time. I think the main goal if for it to be my sanity.

Mottled Light

Mottled Light
the way my mind feels sometimes, waiting for a breakthrough.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Entry Sixty-Two BUS STORIES ENTRY

Rather brief. But it's something.

(This portion of the entry occurs just after we left off in the last entry.)

The impact was jarring. The sound was deafening and I felt like that hit alone had shattered my whole body. But I was still alive, still conscious as the car spun. Like a merry-go-round. Like some terrifying ride. One on which I would probably die. There was this horrible screeching, a deafening scream as tires skidded and metal ripped apart. For one spit second I could hear the screams of the driver of the truck. Or maybe that was me. Then everything was dark.
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