Urban Fictionary

Dad Joke

“So, a cow, chicken, and a pig walk into a bar, right. They sit at the bar next to each other in a row. The bartender comes up and serves…

Naked

So stood Times Square: empty but for the few locals in transit as attention-starved ads sheened and shimmered like the brilliant stars above a…

Ringo Ishikawa

Amidst a sea of uncertainty in life, we return to our comforts as old, worn jeans and childhood bedrooms, if we are so fortunate as…

Speak No Evil

For nearly ten years, through high school and into university, I blogged nightly. Most of the writing was trite and self-aggrandizing, but every once in a while I would recount a story of some noteworthy merit.

Ritual

It was about 6:45 when she pulled open the old glass door of her usual coffee shop, bells breaking the morning quiet with a jingle that announced her arrival. She quickly met eyes with her usual server, and he smiled at her warmly as he, without prompt, began to prepare her usual coffee.

Broadway

Chapter 1.

He wrote his ode to “Manhattan”—a love letter to a glam version of the destination that was now tattered in pathetic fallacy, rain meeting tear as they together fell from faces freshly feeling the remorse of a newfound President-elect.

When The Writing Stopped

Found on his typewriter next to a burnt out pile of buts in an ashtray unkempt. He was 26.

January 1, 2008: A Letter In Memorandum

There was a time, years ago, when I wrote religiously. As vital as breathing, ’twas; as necessary as…

Commonlaw

It was about 7:30 pm on Sunday night when the credits of the season’s last episode appeared on the screen before them, snaps of white light strobing across the otherwise-dark room as each name scrolled past.