The idea came like a concussion. Out of nowhere. A preposterous force of convictions within that often woke me up, late at night, vomiting ideas into a small, thin, brown notebook. I wondered how this idea would eventually flesh itself out, if at all. But now, exactly one year from when I quit my job in Dallas to take writing seriously, I have completed the manuscript. Draft one anyways. Remaining is still quite a bit of ironing, sure, but the fabric is there. It’s loosely woven together and it just feels so damn good. Appropriately, I’m off to LA, where the book began, for 9 days to celebrate, and to tell God I love him. If you’re reading this, I give you my gratitude. Thank you.

[read more]

This morning I walked to the park feeling somewhere between lonely and nostalgic. I wanted to touch something soft and colorful as I walked along, staying wrapped up in my own head. My eyes lazily drifted this way and that with the passing of events as I avoided eye contact with numerous drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians. [read more]

The baby gazelle’s legs are weak. They wobble as he struggles to stand under the oppressive heat of the African midday sun, which he has never seen before today. What is this brightness that burns my eyes, he wonders. He is lying in the grass. His fur, covered in blood and amniotic fluid, is gelled against his quivering body. A thick warm tongue gently licks the length of his head, from snout to ears. He recognizes a heartbeat. [read more]

A tribute to Poison.

“I am not who I thought I was, and am not bound by who people have thought me to be.”

And I am excited about them.

To trust that God is true is to know that one day I will suffer. There is not another way. And to believe this to be true means that God, in love, will extend his hand with a poignant courtesy and ask for mine with the intention to purposely lead me into circumstances from which I will inevitably beg him to save me. What does I love you mean in these moments? Is it a confession? Is it a cry for help? How do you hold the hand of a parent who will lead you into pain and brokenness? [read more]