A few years ago, I used to be really into running. I used to be the type who’d balk when a friend would inform a gathered circle of drinking acquaintances that I was “a runner.”

I’d reply, “I’m not; it’s just something I do.”

I’d flutter my hands at the wrists and kick my heel backwards and then say, “I shouldn’t even be able to run! I’m like a little bumble bee!”

Taken as false modesty, the motivation for my playful defensiveness was fairly simple: I wasn’t that good at running.

I mean, yeah, sure, I grew up playing sports…

My cat Meester Nice Guy died last Sunday. I was helping a friend down the street fix some closet shelving. I was gone for 3 hours to come to find he was gone. He hadn’t been acting weird or anything up to the night before, so I’m not sure what caused his death. I had a socially distanced dinner with my parents who I hadn’t seen in months, so I had to get to BARC so they could dispose of his body.

I’m really sad and didn’t know I’d ever be here, grieving a cat. I’ve been missing him all…

I don’t have a Hurricane Harvey story. As is a typical thing for me: I had somewhere else to be. About a week after the rains stopped and enough of the waters receded, I got into my brother’s white suburban and drove to Telluride, Colorado.

The goal was to participate in the Imogene Pass Run, which basically was running the 17 miles from Ouray to Telluride. The only hitch is that there’s a pesky 13,000-foot point in between. 10 miles up, 7 miles down.

So, I left Houston and Harvey behind.

I took my time driving there but rushed to…

I’m not someone who watches sports. It’s not really for me. For someone who grew up always playing some type of team sport and lives as active a lifestyle as I, it does seem kind of odd that I usually have very little to say on the subject nowadays. Guess I was never *into* the consumption of sport. Just the production of it. Anyway.

But I was young once. And I’m not a totally checked-out person.

What Kobe Bryant Left Behind

I remember Kobe Bryant growing up. He had a coolness and a flair and he seemed like a god on the basketball court. …

In the 14th century, Pope Benedict XI sent a letter to Giotto di Bondone, Florentine painter, architect and sculptor, requesting a drawing to demonstrate his skills for a potential commission at St. Peter’s Basilica.

As the story goes, Giotto walked over to a canvas, dipped his brush in red paint and proceeded to draw a circle without the aid of a compass. He handed it to the Pope’s courier as a sample of his mastery and then told him to bugger off. The circle was perfect.

The story symbolizes the simplicity and majesty of being able to draw a perfect…

I waited in my office behind my desk with my back to the door when I heard a few knocks on it. Through the sliver of window to the left of the door, I saw his right arm wearing a tweed jacket with a blue-faced watch with a stainless steel band. I remained still as I slowly spun my chair back to face the door. I just watched his right arm since I had nothing else to watch. It just hung there expectantly while I watched my breath hoping he couldn’t hear me through the inch-and-a-half wooden door. It was…

She’s staring at me in the eyes, asking, pleading with me to tell her the complete truth. For once. How did she get here so fast? It usually takes 35 minutes to get here from her place. But she got here in 20 minutes after we hung up.

7:00 in the morning on a Saturday. I guess there was no traffic. And she had to have been speeding. A lot.

A shame, really, because I needed more time to get my story straight.

“So,” she trails off, “are you going to tell me what happened last night?”

As soon as…

He’s doing the thing where he’s the aspirational pastor of the Capitalists’ Gospel according to the American Dream in the age of the Millenial Hustle.

* * *

FRIEND: I’m not sure why you’re meeting with your own subcontractors. Don’t you think putting hours into your chosen means of income is beneath you? I mean, you’re a really smart guy from a pedigreed background and the mere fact that you exist should mean that you never have to worry yourself with the due diligence owed to ensuring your stream of income never dries up?

FA: Despite the fact that I…

I found some underwear underneath my truck. The eastern sun barely even poking its head out of the slumberous stitches of its almighty comforter wrapped up in the west. Boxer-briefs that were not in good repair, mind you. They were a pair of underwear forgotten behind the dryer for years. A sock under the couch. A quarter at the bottom of a shoe box.

It was a pair of underwear that had circumnavigated the universe since the Cretaceous Era, only to plummet to Earth right on an early Monday morning, crash-landing underneath my truck’s front right fender between my vehicle…

About 10 minutes prior to receiving the frantic call from my stepmom, I was listlessly laying about the pool on a self-selectedly lazy Sunday afternoon. I had called in a pizza for carry-out and realized I should probably begin the long slog to my vehicle parked outside my sister’s fancy apartment complex. My empty stomach was doing that thing it does where it hurts from intaking a heavy-handed triple serving of alcohol over a short period of time. Some would call this a normal physiological reaction. I consider it one of my many weaknesses.

I charge my phone in the…


I do things. Huge nerd otherwise. Interested in all types of media & creative-ish forms of expressions. Rawr!!

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