Saturday, May 31, 2014
When she saw my face, my wife threw up right there on the hospital room floor. She tried to grab the trashcan, but most of it missed. I don't know what she'd had for breakfast, but there was a lot of it.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
In this version of my hometown, there are no homes, no street names, nothing recognizable. Just rows and rows of concrete blocks on black asphalt roads, and I can't find the place where I'm supposed to be.
Friday, May 16, 2014
People tell me it's taking over. You have no life, no friends, we never see you anymore. But I tell them like I'm telling you...