That’s all I want. For my birthday, I want peace and quiet. Invariably, given my line of work, I’m just swamped.

This year is no different. Yesterday, I was at 4 places in 8 hours, none of which were less than 20 miles from each other. So, for this holiday season, all I want is a warm night in front of a fire, hot chocolate in hand. Crystal and I will watch a movie and fall asleep with the aftermath of a s’mores and pastry massacre left uncleaned.


I’m turning 40. Holy shit. I’m turning 40. I have no idea what to do with that. 

 I may or may not be freaking out a bit.

More on this as the day draws near. 


My toes clutch the edge harder

Grinding in lateral motions

Spaced rhythmically

Slowing from a whip to a waltz

As the pressure increases

And the first trickle of blood appears

The stream breaks and merges

At random intervals

Unceremoniously filling

An abundance of craters

Pock marking a marred stone slab

The sensation of gravity turned

The angle of my incline feels

Much more like laying forward

Than standing up

And I am off kilter

As my weight sways

and I stagger

The whir of the world

Is particularly loud this morning

My feet cramp

My knuckles crack

And an odd paralysis sets in

I feel heavy


Like a stone statue

worn beyond recognition

That is now defined more by age than purpose

By which histories are catalogued, defined and deciphered

The passage of time is deafening

It is arduous in its tedium

Overwhelming in its relentlessness

It is clumsy and formless

Never linear or predictable