Carlisle Street

The folded blueprints I plucked from my grey bucket came from the building department at the village. They felt like a treasure in my hands; I wanted to delve into them with abandon. I separated the inky paper folds, spreading the map flat on the floor. I squatted to read the details of the reverse print. The building commissioner had [...]

2013-03-05T17:26:19+00:00March 5, 2013|Categories: book writing, memoir, Writing|Tags: , , , , |

Reinvention or Forks?

I make no excuses. I don't even justify why anymore. I look back on my years, (I really think "my years" started after college) and realize when I was asked, "So, what do you do?" I never had an answer. I responded, "I work at an ad agency," or "I work for a bank." or "I write." I never quite [...]

2013-03-01T19:28:50+00:00March 1, 2013|Categories: Writing|Tags: , , |
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