This post originally went live on June 28, 2013. Enjoy! I know why I’m here. Sometimes it feels like I don’t, though. I don’t belong anymore. But we all knew that coming into it.
This second-person short is dedicated to my old running coach, Jeremy Mattern, a man who believed one school’s program could be great and has been making it such for almost fifteen years. You’re an animal, J-town. It starts in the chest. It swirls around the abdomen,
This is the second part of two posts. I recommend you read the post I wrote just prior before moving on to this one. Allowing a book, or any external event, to represent something as hefty as entering into a new chapter of life puts an extreme
This is the first part of two posts. The second part will be published shortly. Stay tuned! Six summers ago I rode my bicycle across America with my friend Les. It was a life-changing adventure. I remember exactly where I was when I knew not just
He approached the register. “Yes sir,” I said. “Can I help you with anything?” He said he was borrowing his daughter’s bike for the week and that it was making funny noises and not shifting right. His accent came from his side of the country.
This story, while written by me, belongs to and originally appears in the “Los Angeles 8th Edition” collection at LOVE NAIL TREE. Check it out here. They say LA is Dodger, Bruin, shoreline, sky, and levi-cutoff blue. Say cheese! Generations have been smiling here for more
Up, way up, way, way up is where my brother sits. He bends back branches and leaps from tree to tree at will. He has always been more adventurous than me. Below him are my friends, Raymond and Louis, themselves in different trees but often
This story, while written by me, belongs to and originally appears in the “Bon Courage” collection at LOVE NAIL TREE. Check it out here. “Bon courage!” yelled people in the crowd. “Bon courage… bon courage… bon courage…” the cyclists were saying around her, smiling and
From touring across America to touring across the street to Safeway, I’ve put more than 15,000 miles on my Surly. I don’t say that to brag. I say that to emphasize the terror I felt in seeing a thief try to ride away with her
In my pocket there is lint. There is lint because of what I put inside my pockets, and because of how frequently I do so. For example, I put my wallet in my left pocket. It is made of leather, and with time, the articles