always remember how lucky you are to have yourself

“hurricane Katrina… more like ____”

Everyone wants you to try the scrapple. Why is it always a slightly different color? You wonder how long you can keep politely declining before social pressure dictates you try just one bite. You wonder if there will be any going back.

Humid summer midnights are pierced by blood-curdling, unrelenting screams from the woods. Everyone says it’s the owls. You’ve never seen an owl here, not once.

It’s four a.m. and you’re at Wawa. Several other people are there, clutching receipts and waiting for their orders. “Number fifty-eight!” calls the man behind the counter. Everyone checks their slips, repeating the clerk’s words in a reverent, droning whisper. No one claims the hoagie.

Stink bugs aren’t native; they have no predators here. As the last of the snow melts you hear one fly past your ear, its brittle wings beating furiously. Soon everything will be tinged with their effluvium, and nothing can stop them. You taste their stench on the back of your tongue.

The Maine

“Taxi” Music Video shoot