It’s so fucking hard to be a dog in India. No one pets them, people stand away and keep their hands close, just-in-case. Like being a man in America, but who would trust THAT dog. Who, in their right mind anyway. Dogs carry disease and go from docile to snarling in less than a heartbeat. […]Read more "So fucking hard to be a dog in India…"
By Jamie Howton, 2013 I dig myself holes, the blackest of emotional oubliettes that I willingly and repeatedly climb down into. No light penetrates. No love is perceivable. The end is right there. I wallow in my own despair, my own sorrow, my own anguish this is a poisonous place, it doesn’t support real life. […]Read more "What I do."
It occurred to me that I’m alive today and the reason is known to me too. I watched the Sun set from my window and cried; strangely I can not really say why. They weren’t tears of sadness, depression, despair but not joy or happiness either. More like empathy for this Sunlight “of ours” for […]Read more "It occurred to me that I’m alive today…"
Approximately 22,000,000 minutes ago my mother died. I have felt angry that she died for most of this time, angry, betrayed, abandoned. I am trying to reconcile those feelings with the reality of the situation and I am certain she didn’t want to die – it was an aneurysm that killed her. She didn’t leave […]Read more "Putting down my burden."
“Searching the ether for strands of connection. Are we really just whisps of ideas moving past each other. Sometimes abrasive, sometimes with snarling velocity, sometimes with the most beautiful delicance imaginable.” “Yes” she said.Read more "Just whisps…"