On Shame.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Without it, we are powerful. With it, we are human. 


Your affectionately, etc., etc.,


A Local Occurance


10:07 a.m.

2nd Starbucks on Crystal Drive, the corner table by the exit door.


One of the many men exiting looks to my table of Mansfield extravaganza, and stops. He, in his yellow shirt, blue pants, and most likely some soy skim complexity to go, says:

“Ah. I read that book in high school. You…uh…reading it for class?”

He seemed perplexed that I should have such a book in my possession through any other means. I say:

“Oh. No, it’s my favorite book.”

From this, he made some sort of response between lack of understanding “ah”, an eye roll, and a scoff, and departed.


It’s nice to have my opinions confirmed every now and then.



Yours affectionately and etc.,