No longer a stranger in a strange land

Untethered

Untethered

After focusing mainly on poetry over the past few years, I’m really enjoying diving back into short stories—creating worlds and exploring them in new ways. My last two stories (Beatrice Never Leaves and Silently Seeking Soles) began as quirky true events that I stumbled across online, and this one is no different. Sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction: when I came across an article about a kidnapped emotional support alligator, misplaced and set loose in a Georgia swamp, I thought, Now, there’s a story! As you know, I love telling stories from unusual perspectives. So here’s my take on…

Silently Seeking Soles

Silently Seeking Soles

Yesterday, I wrapped up a short story that has been simmering for a mere 25 years. It all started with a bizarre true story about a taxidermist who fell in love with a badger he was preserving—yes, really. That story became Beatrice Never Leaves, a dark, haunting look at obsession and the things we just can’t let go of. But, based on your lovely feedback, I decided to shift gears and try moving my pacing from decades to under 24 hours. While scrolling through recent headlines, I came across a gem of a story: a Greek man convicted for repeatedly…

Beatrice Never Leaves

Beatrice Never Leaves

This story has been percolating in the back of my mind for years. It’s based on a bizarre, real-life event I came across about 25 years ago—about a taxidermist who fell in love with a badger he was preserving. I wanted to explore why he did it, and while I tapped into his obsession, I never really thought of how ‘Beatrice’ (that’s the name he gave to the badger) might play a bigger role in the story. Earlier today, I was wrapping up a post on my other Brittle Views website where I explore storytelling, creativity, and the intersection of…

The Art of Loving Out Loud: Building Deeper Connections in Community

The Art of Loving Out Loud: Building Deeper Connections in Community

The Quiet Magic of Connection Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the nature of community and how we express love within it. There’s a special kind of magic that unfolds when people gather with shared intentions, whether it’s in an intentional, conscious community or simply among friends with a common purpose. Yet, even in these safe spaces, we often hold back from expressing love fully and openly, afraid of being misunderstood or crossing boundaries. But what if these conscious communities were places where not only was it safe to deeply love those around you, but to also speak that love out…

Between Breaths

Between Breaths

For the last couple of months, I’ve been helping a very dear friend organize a nonprofit fundraising event that will take place this weekend. HARK’s mission is to “share the real story of ALS and to provide a network of compassionate resources for families.” Through fundraising activities like this weekend’s event, HARK provides assistance to alleviate the financial burdens faced by families battling ALS, offering support in many ways including: Having heard me perform some of my poetry at an open mic night, Deb asked me if I’d consider writing something and performing it at the event. I said “yes”…

Salad Days

Salad Days

Over the last few years, writing poetry has been my primary creative outlet, but that wasn’t always the case. There was a time when I focused more on writing short stories, with dreams of seeing them published in prestigious magazines like GQ, The Atlantic, and Granta. This was back when I was running The Final Carrot, an online writing group I founded in the late 90s. I’d set weekly writing assignments, with submissions being posted online. One of the goals was to create a nurturing environment for growth and creativity, so members were encouraged to provide both supportive feedback and…

Years of Sweet Laughter

Years of Sweet Laughter

As I’ve been cleaning up and categorizing my written work (poetry, short stories, personal histories, and assorted essays), I sometimes come across something that I want to brush the dust off, and share more widely. One technique that I’ve successfully used to overcome writer’s block is to open up a favorite book at a random page, and use the last full sentence at the bottom of the page as a jumping off point for a short story or poem. A variant of that has been to use a snippet of song lyrics, and I think that this is where this…

Finding Your Eyes

Finding Your Eyes

As I diligently try to get my arms around 45 years’ worth of my poetry in readiness for publishing my ‘Love & Loss’ collection, I come across long-forgotten poems that seem to be screaming, “Pick me!” This is one of those poems. I don’t remember when I wrote it, but I have a feeling that it wasn’t based on any one specific personal experience. Always a voracious reader and avid movie fan, the romantic in me would often be hooked by the turn of a phrase or a specific scene, and I’d want to take it and make it my…

From Spaceman to Bassman

From Spaceman to Bassman

If I look back to the ten years from 1969 when Neil Armstrong became the first man to actually walk on the moon, to 1979 when Sting just sang about it, I guess that those two extremes (astronaut and rock star) covered my pre-corporate dweeb career aspirations. July 20th, 1969 was a big day for me. No, not because of the moon landing (at least not to begin with). The reason for my excitement was that it was the first day of our family vacation and instead of spending it with my aunt and her family in Rhyl, we were…

UNSPOKEN NO MORE

UNSPOKEN NO MORE

At the weekend, I was among a large group that came together to celebrate the life of a close friend who passed ten years ago. I’d first met Ian when we were both 18, and we were both freshly-minted students at Wolverhampton Polytechnic. He was one of those people that fully embraced his quirkiness, and we all loved him for it. Yesterday, I spent much of the day reflecting on the weekend, and this poem decided to make an appearance. While it was always clear just how much we all loved each other, the actual words would go unspoken. That…

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