Nothing to Say

I don’t feel like writing tonight. I’m sitting comfortably on a sofa from IKEA worn with cat scratches, drinking whiskey and ginger ale, and listening to a Spotify playlist titled “Cinematic Indie Folk”. I feel a little like a cliche. I feel depressed and unmotivated but undeniably fortunate to live a life mostly free of fear. I imagine many wallow in a similar headspace after tragedy; a mass shooting, a celebrity suicide, or a murder in the street done with impunity.

What The Great British Baking Show Taught Me About Writing

This story was originally published in issue #16 of Unwinnable’s Exploits. If you want to support more writing like this, consider subscribing!  

The staccato violins rise, the camera cuts wildly between flustered red faces, and Noel Fielding is buzzing around the tent dressed as a bumble bee. Every round of The Great British Baking Show ends with a montage of finishing touches on a ciabatta loaf, genoise sponge, or the lime-green dome of a princess cake before the contestants perilously tiptoe their creations to a pair of grim-faced judges. The entries are sampled, a verdict is reached, and then this thing, this object of hard work and meticulous planning and research, is disappeared to be presumably passed around the cast and crew before being spirited to a confectionery compost pile.

Friday Mornings

I wake before dawn to an illuminated rectangle at the far corner of my dark room; my phone alarm spurs me down the narrow hall to a hot shower. After getting dressed I ignite the lights in the living room and kitchen, grabbing a blueberry yogurt from the refrigerator and settling down on the couch to college football highlights and another loss for the New York Knicks. A panel of suited strongmen talk sports statistics that go way over my head; I’m just happy to have some company at this hour.

I pocket the keys to the bakery enclosed in a heavy Batman ring and prepare for the cold. My car roars awake and quickly cycles through its morning stretches. A few voices sound off on NPR about something I can never remember. The roads are slick and empty and softly reflect the street lamps and the strobe lights attached to the belts of dedicated joggers and the bright eyes of a stationary metro bus sinking with the weight of boarding passengers. I break the crest of a few oscillating hills and spy the distant highways where sleepy vehicles gently waver between lanes. An oncoming traffic light turns a deep red; I halt at the intersection and gaze through the windows of the street-corner Starbucks, dangling amber bulbs reveal a trio of teenagers preparing for the morning rush. The green light sends me forward before quickly reverting back to yellow like a temperamental gatekeeper.

After parking I walk a short distance beneath a crescent moon and thumb for the correct key to unlock the back door. I cross the empty kitchen, flip the switches for the dining room, and clock in. First to arrive; how I like it.

For Hire

Dear recruiter,

My name is James and I have recently graduated from a liberal arts university you probably never heard of or are constantly confusing with Texas State. My extensive experience in whatever it is you want me to do makes me an excellent candidate.

oh little me

Freshman year of college I spent many an hour alone in our cavernous campus chapel. The steady hum of the air conditioning morphed into a drone, like the inside of a seashelle. My little retreats were often after nightfall, and the enormous framed windows of a tessellated Jesus glowed with the lamps lighting the academic mall. I sat in a pew, or laid out on the floor to gaze at the rafters, and felt perfectly small.

Making Contact

Having joyously graduated from college and embarked into the glamorous world of job-searching, I decided (with some supportive bullying from my girlfriend) that I needed a little pet project to keep me writing, keep me having fun, keep me sane. You’re looking at it!  Welcome, Reader, please stay a spell :).

Allow me to elaborate on my cryptic header above. A “hub world”, to those unfamiliar with gaming terminology, is an area honeycombed with branching pathways to unique levels, realms, and universes. Imagine you’re Mario, everyone’s favorite stout mustachioed plumber who’s never plumbed a day in his chaotic life, and Peach went and got herself kidnapped again because if the Toadstool Princess isn’t rounding Rainbow Road or circling a hazardous game board she’s somewhere someplace being absconded by a monstrous fire-breathing Koopa. How do you save this seemingly powerless monarch? Oftentimes you must collect blank-faced stars or sprites to open doorways advancing towards a climatic final boss fight. Now think the polygon-stretching castle from Super Mario 64, the sun-kissed Delfino Plaza at the center of Super Mario Sunshine, or the wondrous Comet Observatory waltzing  in orbit of neighboring planets in Super Mario Galaxy. The hub world is where it’s all connected, it’s the means of your teleportation, a unification of outreaching portals. Through the hub world you travel to snow-swept mountain summits, a beach-side resort under attack by an ethereal manta ray made of electrified jelly, and a derelict asteroid bombarded by the perpetual cannon fire of interstellar battleships. I’d like to think that’s where you are now, but with less things trying to kill you.      

Now that you’re thoroughly confused, I’ll continue on to the latter half of my aforementioned header. My brain is a wandering vagabond distracted by meaningless pop culture trivia and the tactile sounds of words. It likes to go places, dream around the clock, and hear itself think. Essentially, my self-described nomadic nature is simply an excuse to write about whatever I want on here. One day you’ll find game or movie reviews, and another a heartfelt ode to the emerald avocado. There’ll be reflections and digressions, posts masquerading as a memoir, and a whole lot of nonsense. Run-on sentences will overflow, comma splices will multiply, and there may even be bad words if I’m feeling pissy. I love wordplay and sarcasm, adjectives and verbiage, and sharing life with my friends. If that all sounds good, then you’ve found a place here. I’m happy to have you.

Like, share, and reblog as much as you desire.  The comments section is all yours too, I’m looking forward to our conversations :).

Thanks for reading,

James