Firstly... I have a new story out! It's NSFW, so I can't link it here, but please read it! I think it turned out great, and it's been a hot minute since Iwas as proud of a story as I am this one. The synopsis, and then a bit of an announcement:

Read More

There was someone playing trumpet as I packed up my computer. It was almost 11, and he was standing next to his car.

I saw his curly head and the gleam of brass pointed up and then he was just sound outside beyond the window and then I don’t know.

When I leaned against the rail outside he was standing by his truck. He was talking with someone. His story slipped away.

Fondren is filled with yellow tape lines and construction. Infuriating traffic cones.

Read More

The barn, at least, is cool. Cool in the sense of temperature—thank god for AC in the unforgiving first waves of Dixie summer. Cool in the sense that the decoration is pleasing: strung lights, nicely set tables, a small bar. It has alcohol, which is the smallest of scandals.

It’s funny, because I hate suits. On me, I hate them, even mitigated by the amusing whimsy of a bow tie. For the record, I love them on others.

Read More

then you definitely should be. Chuck Finley is back yall

She sits upon the wooden rail, Lyra of Mall, and I feverishly work at the unstable metal grate table. Both of us are on the old porch at Cups, that place next to my Alma Mater. It closed hours ago. The lights in the old house are off. The hour is late. The hour is always late for us.

"You aren't real," I say lightly, but without heat and without malice.

"Aye. Does it matter?"

Read More

Mono Wrote a Blog, and I wanted to sort of add on a bit.

I.

Aeternum servans sub pectore volnus.
The Aeneid, Book I, Line  36

The thing about action is that it inspires reaction. Pushback.

Read More

Old Pantera

Some sabaton

Gunfire is deafening over time in the best of conditions, and these were not the best of conditions.

Mercy's long rifle roared again above them on the roof. Again and again, and Soren didn't have to see her targets to know she had struck true. He could almost hear her whispered apologetic prayers.

Read More

I’ve never felt truly comfortable in Christian spaces.

Does that opening sound vaguely familiar? It’s because this is a follow up to THIS blog. I wanted to both address some of the response and myself, and say a few things I didn’t.

Read More

The Beast is tied to a chair in a dark room. There are cameras and a variety of out of place odds and ends everywhere, and behind her what appears to be the beginnings of someone's admittedly fancy study. It looks like a villain's lair under construction. We see that she this is all in the depths of an abandoned oil rig somewhere in the Atlantic. Her sneering brother, the Prince, insists she recount her adventures while posing as him, and she grudgingly accepts. She doesn't have much a

Read More

I have never felt safe or comfortable or welcome in an explicitly queer space.

I’m not sure how to begin this. It’s too knotted up in so many other things. It’s overshadowed by personal trauma and the attitudes that trauma entrenched within me. It’s personal. It’s thorny.

Read More