She was feeling Overwhelmed, which is a Sad and Sticky sort of feeling.

“Not like a storm,” the old tree replied. “We always recover from storms. Sure, we can lose bits of ourselves, but we can gradually triumph over that kind of loss and more. This noise sets my innards on edge. We are in danger,

This is why soldiers break stride when marching over bridges. If the frequency of their march matches the natural frequency of the bridge, the structure could collapse.

I want resonance.

Aligned incentives is a strategy, not a signal. And, even if I get a strong signal, I’m not sure it’s the one I want.

when the sky turns gray, I no longer ask it to become blue again.

For grief is nothing more than love with nowhere left to go

People speak of moving on. I prefer moving forward. There is a difference.

The ache has learned to whisper instead of shout.

Time has softened the sharp edges. The tears no longer arrive without warning.

A gentle reminder that absence can be full.

They say gray is only a color. I know better. Gray is the hush that lingers after laughter.

“Before you make revenge your choice, find something to hold onto after it. Otherwise…”

Share the work. Get the feedback. Fix what needs fixing. Share it again. Never stop.

Courageous Iteration

Share Early <> Wait Until It's Ready

Florida Man. Ten times over.

the image of a painter painting a self-portrait. It doesn't have to be photorealistic to show you someone's soul.

autofiction, the blurry, beautiful line between memoir, autobiography, and fiction

The conversation closes on the thing that ties all of it together: persistence.