I come from Memphis, Memphis, TN, and it shames me to say, I love that shabby, backwater town. Twice it’s been named “Murder Capital of America." The crime rate, at times, surpasses Chicago’s, but I still love that city the way you love someone you can’t say you like. A brother, perhaps, or maybe a cousin. Someone you love just because they are blood. 

The way I feel about my hometown, my “relationship” with it, is practically the same as I have with my father. My dad loves me because I’m his daughter. I love him because he’s my dad. And because someone has to. He’s a moody, rigid and ill-tempered person, who operates, emotionally, on a five-year old’s level. It pains me to say that I’m much the same way; the difference is, I know it. I own it.

There are moments we walk in the brightest sunlight, when all points converge in a manner sublime. Then there are times when the moon and the stars refuse to align, and those moments haunt you

American lawyer, politician, racist, and the second-worst Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court (1777-1864). Taney was born in Calvert County, Maryland to a wealthy family of slavers running a tobacco plantation. His older brother was going to inherit the family plantation, and his father encouraged him to study law. He was sent to Dickinson College at the age of 15; after graduating in 1796, he studied law under Judge Jeremiah Townley Chase in

i want to share with you
something of myself
but you are so delicate
and i don't know my own strength

an earthquake, a flood
your teeth fall out
bones crushed into powder
the sky sings every day
of the great mystery of truth

the breath is a refilling
the lifetime is a refilling