drmstream[writing]

Sit­ting in the sec­ond story of a two-story row house in Brooklyn’s South Slope, I searched for the voice that would tell my 21-year old daugh­ter Becky some­thing about liv­ing. She’s laid up with a bro­ken foot that’s keep­ing her from work­ing at the micro-distillery where she found a job after com­ing back from Louisiana, […]

She wasn’t young any more. You can’t get a new life & still be young. The lines that were miss­ing on her hands were set­tling in her face. March 4, 2011 1:49 pm via Tweet­DeckReplyRetweetFavorite @drmstream drm­stream Beth kept her kit in the bot­tom drawer of the counter at the cor­ner of the stu­dio. The […]

He was a vio­lent man inca­pable of being faith­ful ton his wife. He was also para­noid. Those qual­i­ties doomed their mar­riage. Feb­ru­ary 17, 2011 5:19 pm via Twit­te­la­torReplyRetweetFavorite @drmstream drm­stream When you tell a story on Twit­ter, you assem­ble it into 140 char­ac­ter or fewer bits and dis­trib­ute it into the stream.  It is different […]

It starts sim­ply, in sep­a­rate places. The seed takes root.  It winds through the soil search­ing for mois­ture. The trunk sprouts soft and vul­ner­a­ble, then its hard case stiff­ens as the cold wind, bit­ing rain, steamy sun buf­fet it. The tree grows. Across the path, another tree grows too. Both trees spread their boughs wide, present […]

Selma could hear Patty’s breath slow, and then heard her begin to cry again.  Finally, she felt her friend’s pain, could imag­ine it as if it were her own.  What would I want to hear a friend say, Selma thought to her­self.  At the same instant, she thought to her­self, I’m not ever going to […]

The rumor spread across cam­pus like the brush fires that sparked dur­ing dry fall after­noons at the mouth of Bloody Run: some­one had got a girl up the lane preg­nant. The Head­mas­ter knew. They were going to get expelled. At first we thought it was Sam. He had a ground floor sin­gle and he took […]

I know I left my glasses here some­where. At any rate, it doesn’t mat­ter. This lit­tle boy likes to watch the TV. He thinks he’s grown out of snug­gly toys. The things he doesn’t know, right? Like, he doesn’t know that the best feel­ing in the world is when a lit­tle girl squeezes me so hard […]

The thrum-clang of the gui­tar, the thump thump thump puls­ing of the tom-tom, and the song starts, Hol­sap­ple up on the stage, shaggy-haired and ener­getic, Stamey a lit­tle behind, dif­fi­dent and cere­bral, burst­ing together into the rhythm, and I lean back against the curved wall to feel the plas­ter vibrate. It’s loud, it’s angry and […]

Love is life. All, every­thing that I under­stand, I under­stand only because I love. Every­thing is, every­thing exists, only because I love. Every­thing is united by it alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a par­ti­cle of love, shall return to the gen­eral and eter­nal source. Leo Tol­stoy A Russ­ian chapel, photographed […]

After Mak­ing Love, We Hear Foot­steps For I can snore like a bull­horn or play loud music or sit up talk­ing with any rea­son­ably sober Irish­man and Fer­gus will only sink deeper into his dream­less sleep, which goes by all in one flash, but let there be that heavy breath­ing or a sti­fled come-cry anywhere […]