Month: September 2016

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 7.4

[exhales a satisfied sigh] Ah, another strong episode of good ol’ Buffy. Maybe it’s been the time I’ve taken off from the show (I finished season 6 back in March of last year) but this season has been really rich thematically. I’ve kinda warmed up to the idea of Buffy the Responsible Adult and the sadness of realization that there might not be happy ending for any of the characters on the show. However, the difference between last season and this one is that instead of feeling emo and dour, this season seems to really strike a resonant chord with me. I have a slight inkling that perhaps a big push for my fondness so far is that the show hasn’t focused on the big bad yet or settled into a true monster of the week schtick. Instead, it keeps exploring the aftermath of Season 5’s major plot point (the death of Buffy’s mom) and Buffy accepting adulthood. The episode starts with a nice opener of Buffy settling into her new gig as guidance counselor …

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 7.3

3 episodes in and it’s already apparent that I’m enjoying Buffy’s final season infinitely more than season 6 and it’s dour and sadness. Last season was a drag with everyone depressed and Buffy constantly moping around, to the point where I felt it unbearable. This season opened with a surprisingly light and fun opener, penned by show creator Joss Whedon, that felt like an apology of sorts for last seasons emo tone. I’ve read, thankfully without being subjugated to spoilers, that this season has some rough spots and is quite awful, but honestly I’m pretty hooked on the story. Spike is back in town and seems to have lost something mentally, a frustrating development and yet suggesting that his character is going through some cathartic changes. I’ve always had a soft spot for Spike. Once he had the chipped placed in his head that prevented him from attacking good beings, I started rooting for his character. Unfortunately the writers deemed it necessary to keep him an asshole, to the point where he attempts to rape …


longing for a word and a smile and hi preferred to a kiss and a wink of eye   jet black strings pushing 5 foot gentle mannerisms not much of flirt   devoted to work perhaps party and play cares deeply for her brings it every day   just a slight crush not much but hey yet loss of words and so much to say

isolation baby desperation child

Isolation baby desperation child We met at the mouth Under an envelope of envy She whispered, “have your way” Only youth kept me from obliging   Undeterred, she crawled upstairs Now the smell of dew and bare ass Bad things happen at the right moments This one was no different So I hugged her and said it would be alright   We cowered under a torn blanket Long enough to simmer in sin Then I suggested I drive her home In the car she asked if I loved her I just stared ahead

Path of Least Resistance

Walking down a dilapidated pier Toward an uneventful horizon Save for a blooming cloud Spreading its wings over the horizon.   A cool breeze blows Pushing me back from the edge As circles spread out like pulses Where a boy spits in the blue.   When all directions point forward Saving grace lies in the unfolding doom Knowing full well home is behind me– So much depends on a breeze and a cloud.


Her name was Sam. At least that’s what I would have named her from afar. It didn’t matter what she called herself. She was real. Petite too; 5’5″ and barely scratching a hundred pounds. She reminded me of a bopper from the 20s with wavy brown hair cut just below the ears. She said she was a painter, sometimes a sculpter. She could’ve been my younger sister. I could’ve kissed her. Instead we talked as we walked along the hallways of floor 7G of Roosevelt Hospital–the psych ward. “I was getting pulled by the wind,” she said. “I had just left my ex-boyfriend’s–I mean my boyfriend’s. The wind kept pulling me until finally I was against the door of this building. Then I went inside, and I saw these empty white walls and I figured I’d make an exhibit. Performance art you know. So I started swirling in circles. There was this audience but they didn’t get it. They kept trying to stop me. Someone called the police.” “What’d you do?” I asked. “I kept …