Picasso, like the artist

The sound of beer bottles shattering upon impact with the floor was a sound I was very familiar with. It let me know that it was that time of day where I should pretend to be asleep. I didn’t take the risk of having the TV on at a low volume or listening to music through headphones. So, it was just myself and the dark, silent void I called my bedroom. Like most children however, I was afraid of the dark. Luckily, I knew I could always have my closet door cracked open ever so slightly. He lived in the small sliver of light that escaped from the closet. We were able to have long conversations without me having to utter a single word out loud. I’d tell him about my day, confide secrets, admit regrets, and he’d do the same back to me. I almost couldn’t believe he had problems of his own, his life seemed so great. He was an adventurer. He explored the world and met amazing people. He seemed so strong, like nothing could stop him from doing what he wanted. He certainly wouldn’t be stopped by...

My workbench was messy and cluttered, but if a passerby were to examine it they’d probably think it was unorganized in such a way that I could precisely pinpoint exactly where every single screw and circuit board was. This was not the case. In fact my work process is disastrously inefficient and wasteful. This computer, however, won’t be. I’ve wasted so many resources on developing imperfect models, and even now I’m still trying to engineer something more advanced. Something that exceeds the standards of commercial computing as we know it today. I don’t want to appeal to every spoiled, Cheeto-dust-fingered brat who’s begging for their mommy’s credit card to play the same asinine, mind numbing game about a benevolent hero crusading about, between poorly written and poorly animated cutscenes. I want to be thanked for propelling technology and therefore society years into the future in ways no one could have predicted. I was surprised to see my son looking through the door to the garage, ...

At the bottom of a well, I was scared. It was dark. I cried out for help. I needed someone to pull me out of this prison of woe, a cavern of despair. A hand reached out, like a righteous savior, who would always be there for me. It was you. When we were dating, I always told her about that recurring dream I had. I knew it was her hand in the dream. She was perfect, like a sunrise in human form. Soon I found she had quite the influence over my personality. I became a generally happier, and even kinder person. Like I was slowly trying to copy her just to be that much closer to her. I wanted to understand what made her presence so uplifting, her laughter so contagious, and her outlook, ever so optimistic.  “I think it would be better to just be friends.” The text message that locked into my memory. The message I didn’t open in hopes it would go away. After that day, the dream stopped coming to me. Instead I was living it, but this time there was no one reaching out. I’d still see her,...

I never liked going for the easy picks, the 4 or 2 to 1’s. The way I saw it was, since I don’t have much to spend, I figure it’s more worth it to bet on the 25’s or 27’s, since it would be more payout, even though I could only put so much in. After all, someone has to root for the little guy. The race is starting. The jockey on my 24/1 horse firmly plants themselves on the determined steed. With a fire in its eyes, the majestic beast gets a good leap at the start, galloping ahead of the 16/1 and the 12/1. The creature is proud, but still maintains laser focus on the finish line. The stallion channels a pure evolutionary instinct to run, never thinking of stopping. Even from so far away, he could feel the impact of the ribbon at the finish line, his sheer willpower slicing through it like a machete. 4th place. The walk home lost the sense of shame it once had after a lost race. The impact of the disappointment is now more or less equivalent to spilling water on myself in the car or find...

My sister’s house was the exact opposite of the tranquil silence of my apartment. I get sensory overload when I sometimes forget to tune out the sounds of kitchen appliances, the same Disney movie being played for the sixth time that day, and her two, extremely energetic, four year old twins. I fancied myself the “cool uncle.” When I came over, all they wanted to do was talk to me and show me their latest made up adventure they would reenact in the backyard. My sister saw how much they loved spending time with me, and how much I loved spending time with them.  “When do you plan on getting a few of your own?” She asked, already knowing my answer.  A memory comes with this baggage of not feeling up to the task of being a father. It was when my sister’s boys had just turned two years old. They were barely coming into their personality, the youngest one had trouble talking for quite some time, and I couldn’t always understand him. While the oldest was preoccupied with a handful of...

I was exploring the arts and crafts section of the store, when I saw it. Sitting there, alone among papers and pencils, as if someone was going to take it but traded it out for a 16 pack of crayons. She was plastic, and looked a little worn. It was something that plugged into the wall directly, and attached, was a figure that was made to look like a beautiful angel. She held a torch, and that was where the light came from. There was an outlet near, I tested it out and the glow she emitted was so entrancing I could get lost in the shine for hours. I was taken out of the hypnotic state by my dad, who had been looking for me. He grabbed me roughly by the collar with his nicotine stained fingers and hurried me to the checkout counter, but not before I quickly snatched it from the wall outlet. I knew my dad wouldn’t allow me to take it so I hid her in my jacket pocket. I knew once we got home it wouldn’t be an issue since he hardly comes in my room anyways. We came back to a piercingly sile...

I’ve always been proud of my woodworking. Ever since I made that cute little jewelry box my sophomore year of high school. Even possessive of it. I wouldn’t like other kids poking or prodding at it. I don’t think I ever outgrew any of that unfortunately. Sure, when I make things for others it’s fine but I just feel different about something I build to put in my home. Over the years, though, stuff inevitably comes apart, which is understandable since I made a lot of things when I was a lot younger and less experienced, but I just didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. One day, a chair I had worked on for days during my freshman year of college had a leg that fell off. It honestly shook me up a little. I didn’t think much of it, just that I was evidently way too attached to a piece of furniture. I never thought much about my past, mainly because I don’t remember much. However, when the top shelf of the shelving unit I made my senior year of high school fell I had a really strange experi...

“He looks so much like you!” Or some variety, was something I’ve always heard. I first remember the comparison to my grandfather when I was very young but evidently it went back as far as when I was an infant according to my grandma. I was about 11. New Year’s Eve. The attendees were my parents, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles I hadn’t seen since I was “this big”. A lot of alcohol. I don’t remember fearing anything more than the big, gaudy bottle of liquor that always found its way to family gatherings. I’d always get an uneasy feeling, with my grandfather as well as any other adult in my life when they had too much to drink, like it was someone who was so unfamiliar and untrustworthy to me. The smell of their breath disgusted me, the way they talked was like it’s own language that I didn’t speak, and they moved as if performing a poorly choreographed ballet. I’d seek out my grandma for comfort, since she was, much to her dismay, the designated sober. Then the family scrapbook wo...

For Billy Joel Hey Marty, How’s your first month of college on the west coast? I always knew you were meant for bigger things than this town could provide. We just couldn’t keep ya down huh? I’m just teasing, brother, Joanna and I miss the heck out of you. I know how Pa felt about you leaving, especially so far away, but if he were still here I just know he’d see the brilliant person I do. My job at the steel factory is going ok, though I’m a little shaken up. It wasn’t long after you left that two others not too far from here had a big wave of layoffs, not mine though, we’re being assured we’re safe, and they’re even thinking about expanding, so maybe the others who lost their job could get new ones, so there’s a little bright side. Hey, don’t forget our birthday is in a couple weeks and I’m expecting a gift with all that computer science grant money you got, HA! Well, I’ll keep it short, I know a big shot like you don’t have a lot of time for your small minded brother in his small mi...