Writing

The Breakup

  • August 6, 2019
The Breakup

This note was found in the lobby of an abandoned Catskill Mountains hotel in August of 2019. Josh, I will come back to you under conditions. You go to REHAB.You will never ever call me a cunt, bitch, or tell me to shut up ever again.You will never ever raise your hand or almost hit me ever again. Josh, just drop my stuff off at my mom's. I will not be able to be found. I'll be in a hospital before you find this. You made me feel unwanted. And treated me like your ex. I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your ex-bitch. I am now but I wasn't when you first picked me up. I get it I'm fat and ugly...

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A Typical Friday’s Child

  • March 25, 2019
A Typical Friday’s Child

I was born on a Friday morning, and I recently returned to the house where I was born on a Friday, almost 30 years later, a typical Friday's child. The house was a moment froze in time, as if nothing had changed since I walked out the front door at the tender age of 8. I still remember the dimly lit hallway leading upstairs, the flocked red wallpaper, and the salt and pepper carpeting. Nothing had changed in all these years I spent away, stepping out the front door at age 8 as a small child, raised on promises. I made my way through life, living, growing, and thriving, only to return...

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Addicted To A Certain Kind Of Sadness

  • January 14, 2019
Addicted To A Certain Kind Of Sadness

Lately I've found that there's a longing to visit locations and friends from my past. Locations and friends that not only helped raise me but also made me realize that there is so much more I could be. Tattoos and memories, integral to my development and well being, of which I held so near and dear to my heart. I sought solace in believing that they would always be there, the same ways in which they live in my memory; flawless, eternal and almost god-like until finally I realize that these friends are human and the locations are physical. All of this was nothing more than an idealist fantasy,...

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They Came And Wrote Things Down On Paper

  • September 17, 2018
They Came And Wrote Things Down On Paper

When I was in grade school, at the request of my parents, the school guidance counselor agreed to perform a series of scholastic tests to see if I would be a better fit for more advanced classes. Several days later the counselor decided to run the same series of tests again, then two weeks passed and they were run a third time. Then came a letter to my parents, which requested a private meeting. I still remember waiting in the school hallway during lunch period outside the guidance counselor's door, anxiously waiting for the test results while my parents were discussing them.

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Thomas Slatin, On Writing

  • September 4, 2018
Thomas Slatin, On Writing

Many people have asked me about my writing, specifically my process and craft, at long last the truth finally being revealed.  So here are my views, Thomas Slatin, on Writing.

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Maybe Someday I Will Understand Why

  • May 27, 2018
Maybe Someday I Will Understand Why

It's the little details I remember; the last things that people say as they are leaving. The way I feel at specific moments, whether good, bad or somehow inexplicably indifferent. I still remember at the end of the summer when I was 16. I had a crush on a close friend, and I still remember the last thing that she said when she was leaving. I still remember her talking about dreams and rumored desires. Hers to marry a rich, wealthy man, and be the mother of his children, mine to be happy and successful in whatever happened to come my way, and if I ended up being happy, then happiness was what...

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Snapshots And Memories And Days Of My Youth

  • April 4, 2018
Snapshots And Memories And Days Of My Youth

When I was a child, my friends and I would ride our bicycles to the end of town and they would wait and gaze at an old mansion where the sidewalk ends. The old mansion, with its old architectural facets, almost as if it came from a time warp of a much earlier time. At the time, none of us knew who lived at the house, though there were rumored to have been an elderly couple living there.

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Desideratum

  • March 1, 2018
Desideratum

When I think of the places I used to know, the locations where keyframe events in my life took place, I feel desideratum. Almost as if there is a feeling of loss, or grief for something lost, as if in that moment I was part of something I cannot see. Forever lost, though completely intangible and metaphysical at best. The heartbreaking reality is the knowledge that most of these places I might never see again. These places helped raise me, and will forever be an integral facet of my past, complete with memories and still frames in my mind of an earlier time in life when I was still young and naive.

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Inconceivable

  • November 7, 2017
Inconceivable

When I was a child my father took me to see something incredible.  Something so amazing, inconceivable, and beyond any reasonable amount of comprehension for me to truly comprehend as an eight-year-old child. Clearly, I remember my father taking me to see something he had been working on.  Something so amazing that I simply had to see it.  I couldn't be sure what it was, and of course, at the time, he wouldn't tell me.

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The Way Things Used To Be

  • September 13, 2017
The Way Things Used To Be

It was all just a dream. It all started with a recurring dream that I had again. A nightmare of sorts, in which I was forced to return to boarding school, though this time I was old enough to leave. I kept repeating the same phrase over and over again.

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Schism

  • July 3, 2017
Schism

One of my high school English teachers would often tell me that I had absolutely no talent for writing whatsoever, and even went so far as to send letters to my parents complaining about how I was simply occupying a much-coveted seat in advanced English class, of which I did not deserve.  I remember being steadfast, determined to hold this often coveted seat.  Once my school work was done, I spent hours writing things in books filled with handwritten pages.  The stories I often tell are of my adventures, mishaps, triumphs, and failures.  The handwritten tales of unrequited love, and of sorrows...

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Sometimes, I Don’t Know

  • May 21, 2017
Sometimes, I Don’t Know

Recently someone asked me if I had always taken pictures and written notes throughout my life, or if this was simply started in adulthood.

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Time To Disappear, Again

  • April 17, 2017
Time To Disappear, Again

The following is an excerpt from my writing notebook, dated April 3, 2017.

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Always On The Outside Looking In

  • February 25, 2017
Always On The Outside Looking In

For as long as I can remember, I was always on the outside, looking in, as if I'm an observer.  Seeing life through a pane of glass, often wondering how things worked, and seeking to reveal the reasons why things are the way they are, and the way things have to be.  Often I get the feeling as if I'm a stranger, or at best a friend that nobody sees.

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Unexpected Denouement

  • February 11, 2017
Unexpected Denouement

I was originally planning on updating my About Page, but thought wisely and published this in the form of an aside.  It might be considered to some to be an unexpected denouement, or a sudden and unplanned change in what is often referred to as regular programming. This is me.  This is what I do.

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