The Land of Ghosts

I live in a land of ghosts. Of course, by thirty, we all do. The landscape is littered with the corpses of the relationships we didn’t nourish with the right kinds of water and food. And in some cases, those corpses represent relationships that were forgotten altogether–left in the sun to fend for themselves and…

But Still I Go

I’ve decided it’s time for more honesty here. I’ve had moments where I was able to really dig in, but for one reason or another, Virtual Napkins has always been a carefully curated collection of stories. Now, though, for my own self-journey, it’s going to get a little more real and a little less selective.…

On Endings

The first thing we need you to do, Mr. Barish, is to go home and collect everything you own that has some association with Clementine. Anything. We’ll use these items to create a map of Clementine in your brain. So we’ll need photos, clothing, gifts, books she may have bought you, CDs you may have…

From the Internet Graveyard #2: Nora

Note: This story first appeared on My Muted Voice, a now vacant piece of Internet property. Here, it is preserved in its original form. There is a sketch in an old journal from years ago of a fortress—a place for keeping secrets and acting out. I drew that fortress when Nora started coming around. When…

Under the Georgia Sky

I’ve been back home in Georgia for the past week for the holidays. I don’t get to make it home much–it’s a long way and work is pretty steady for sixteen weeks straight every semester, so I try to get home during my big breaks for some time with the folks and with my home…

Sundays

Longtime followers of the blog will know that spent a year in a very long-distance relationship. Even though I live closer to her now, we still live a little over an hour apart, so…it’s still some distance. I slip my arms around her. I kiss her cheek through her long hair that she keeps long…

Limits of Language OR Re-Writing Life Redux

“But in order to make you understand, to give you my life, I must tell you a story–and there are so many, and so many–stories of childhood, stories of school, love, marriage, death,and so on; and none of them are true. -Virginia Woolf, The Waves I was a clumsy kid. I’d be willing to bet…