On Writing…My Autobiography

I wrote this my first semester in grad school. Just playing around…


I am the seed of a soldier and a teacher, which makes me a combative student. I am everyman’s nightmare and one man’s dream come true, although that man is still dreaming. My stripes were earned in the War of Hearts. It lasted for ten years. Rhythmical revelations pour from my mouth and when the sun goes down and I scribble them on blank pages.

My friends are in high places and others are buried far beneath the earth’s soil. Sometimes I allow hours and hours to go by without picking up a pen and writing. When I am home alone I stand on my bed and try to fly. My temperament has been known to change at any given time for no good reason. I’ve been known to freeze rooms when I enter and melt them when I depart. No person is ever the same after an encounter with me. My roar can be heard in Jupiter and my bite stings for days.

I am a scribbler, a doodler, a daydreamer, a wisher, a shit talker, a rebel (with an undetermined cause). I am a chunk of clay waiting to be shaped, molded, glazed and placed on someone’s coffee table.

I am no longer afraid of the new analytical me.

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