(A Companion piece to An Essay In Belief)
There’s no bigger waste of time than hate and prejudice. The media in their quest to report the news, or more accurately get ratings, pump out the hate-filled, violent-laden video packages for everyone to look at and say, “Wow, that’s scary.”
And to a certain extent it is. But I often wonder how better off we’d all be if the good got as much coverage as the bad. As humans we need to be informed of what’s going on around us but not everything is bad all the time. Continue reading
I’m a stalwart advocate of the separation of Church and State. It’s an absolute no-brainer. God has no place in government. That’s not an opinion, it’s an established rule. And it’s a very good one for very good reasons. These reasons shouldn’t be up for debate but we are humans and we debate about everything.
Why should there be no debate, you ask? What gives me the right to say that? Well it’s all there in the First Amendment. Continue reading
LOVE ALONE’S JUST NOT ENOUGH
LOVE ALONE’S A BUST
LOVE ALONE CAN’T FIX
A WORLD OF ROT AND RUST
Over on Facebook, author Christopher Rice is celebrating the release of his new 1001 Dark Nights novella, Kiss the Flame. He asked his followers for their thoughts on Romance. I didn’t want to clutter up his comment section with this so I wrote it here for the few people that take a look at this blog thingy of mine.
It’s Halloween and the techno-beat shocks him with electric excitement. Tonight, the club above him would fill to capacity with revelers in all their garishly-garbed glory. For him, costumes were but unnecessary garnish on his dance floor buffet.
THE HOUSE ON COTTONWOOD LANE
Cottonwood Lane was a ritzy neighborhood to be sure. Sarah felt out of place as soon as she turned the corner where Cottonwood met Elm.
She had to remember she was a professional; just because these people’s cars cost more than her entire apartment building didn’t mean she was unworthy. Still she felt she was sullying the area just driving her tiny, Toyota pickup down the mighty Cottonwood. She was sure the only pickups that came this way were loaded with yard equipment.
Sarah worked for Englund Real Estate Agency, but this wasn’t her case. Jackson Whitlock was the original agent assigned to the Weston house. Unfortunately, Jackson had caught a severe case of the husband-came-home-early-itis; a disease that left him in traction.
Jackson was a good agent but also a complete dumbass. His personal motto was “I’ll sell your house and fuck your wife, not necessarily in that order,” Badum-ching.
Sarah looked at the numbers on the houses. She thought calling them houses was like calling the Titanic, just a boat with a tiny leak. The Weston house was 603 Cottonwood Lane. She looked at the clock on the dashboard.
“Shit.” Continue reading
Can’t see a thing
Down these halls
Girl swings by on a
Just isn’t fair
Life kicked out her chair
Night bird caws
Opening wounds with
Queen of shadows
She can not fix a
Washes over like an
You used to laugh
You used to dance
You used to, now there’s