27 Nov, 2012
25 Jun, 2012
16 Jun, 2012
02 May, 2012
When I was nine years old, my father overdosed on oxycontin. I didn't see it happen, but it was still a traumatic event that left me feeling as though I wasn't good enough, because I didn't have a father. I think, because I was a child, my parents very much gave me a sense of definition, that I was who I was because I had them...And without one of them, I think I must've felt like I was only half of someone.
15 Jan, 2011
14 Jan, 2011
Oh fuck. Not again. I'm standing in the place where the thing is, hoping to god Professor Mischief might be on time for once with his bowl of happy dancing yams-which he is, thank the good lord-when, oh, about a third of the way into our delightful dinner conversation about whether or not Mission to Mars is really a good movie, all of sudden he delivers his fatal blow.
04 Sep, 2010
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