The Retrospective Writings

Here's something a little different.. just a little trip down memory lane for me. Enjoy! Freeskate – Written 6/15/16             They sit right where I left them, dustless and in pristine condition, on the third shelf from the bottom on top of the wooden rack in our three-car garage. Right next to the old Tonka truck that didn’t get sold at last year’s yard sale. The price sticker reads ten dollars; I would have said twenty. They sit above the old camping tent that popped a hole two years back, dumbing the night’s contents atop our sleeping heads. It still smells of musty pine. They sit below my brother’s own pair, which he traded way back when for a dream of a new set of wheels that now waits for him out in the driveway—it’s a Honda. They sit there waiting for me as the school week ends and the weekend begins, bringing with it the opportunities of freedoms and adventures yet to come.             My rollerblades. The wheels are pre-oiled; I’ll need the speed. Last week

Some recent friends of mine have been posting memories from their past, so I decided to type out an old writing from my prison book. I’ve been slowly transferring all of them to electronic format, but I’m definitely not getting them out as quickly as I would like. Good friends of mine know about my memory issues, and writing helps me remember, so here’s one of the few sober memories that I’ve been able to retain. I know it’s a little long, and that this generation only has the attention span akin to gnats and only like to read shorthand, emojis, and memes, but bear with me. More to come. Icepick – Written 6/11/16             It was the summer of 2010, I believe, and a part of me wishes that I could call it a simpler time. I lived at a place called “Madhouse,” and for anonymity purposes, we’ll just keep it at that. Why is it called Madhouse? Because the place is a fucking madhouse—don’t ask stupid questions. In actuality, it is a series of houses, and I was lucky enough to l