When The Universe Says “Hold My Beer”
Sometimes the universe doesn’t wait for you to ask. It looks you in the eye, cracks a grin, and says, “Here, hold my beer.” Then it grabs the wheel. Today, instead of rage-writing about healthcare or bureaucracy, I wrote queer short stories. Two of them. And when the words come like that—unforced, urgent, necessary—you don’t argue. You get out of the way and let them land.
When The Universe Takes Over
I don’t write on command. I write to stay ready. Because when inspiration shows up, it doesn’t ask what you planned to work on that day, it takes the wheel. Yesterday, it dragged me out of one project and dropped a whole new book in my lap. All I could do was let the words fall out.
Marked by Death, Judged by a Cat
A thought was burning a hole in my skull when I woke up this morning. Something important. Something sharp. And then a black cat named Lucifer jumped on the bed and punted the remote into oblivion, derailing both my inspiration and my dignity. Healing is loud, life is stupid, and apparently the only creature who understands me is also the one who keeps sabotaging me.