http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing Fri, 16 May 2008 05:25:47 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en There are reasons why most Oregonians call the stretch of land to our west the coast and not the beach. Maybe it’s because a beach sounds tropical and the Oregon coast can be described as many things, but not paradise. Cold, gray, foggy, overcast and rainy are adjectives that best ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2008/04/12/the-beach-often-called-the-coast/ In a crowd of ten thousand, I trudge against the relentless current of nameless people. I try to look each person in the eye, but their gaze is elsewhere. They talk on the phone. They talk to each other. They talk to everyone. But me. Their language is different. I don’t ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2008/03/31/anonymity/ I feel as though my penchant for writing began just prior to Valentine’s Day. It was a day over a decade ago that I experienced love lost. Or so I thought it was—love, that is, because it was definitely lost. How would you react to someone expressing to you that they ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2008/02/14/blue-valentines/ The author spoke about story. And how our life is a story. We are characters. In your own story, you are the protagonist. But perhaps in others you are the antagonist or maybe you just play a small part. Being somewhat of a writer, I soaked in the words he spoke. ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2008/01/26/my-story/ Judging by the sound of the fireworks deployed over downtown Portland, the New Year arrived as I was walking across the intersection of Flanders and 19th. The festivities to which my friends were attending didn’t appeal to me. So I didn’t go. I spent the late ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2008/01/01/1988-chateau-canon/ There’s four or five inches of snow accumulated on the deck and it’s still gently falling. I’m at a friend’s place in the mountains. The house is quiet, except the ticking of a clock in the other room. Everyone’s out skiing, but I’m still recovering from a ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2007/12/28/fresh-snow/ It’s 1:00am. I’m freezing, but I’m sweating. I just returned from the bathroom yet again following another vomit episode. It began at work; feeling the pressure in my head build, not being able to concentrate and that foreboding feeling that the flu is upon me and there’s no way to ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2007/12/27/30-year-flu/ There’s a long winding path that enters a dark, dense forest. Now and again I think that I hear my name being called from within. Can you hear it? I tell myself it is just the rustling of the trees in the breeze. Or maybe it’s them ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2007/12/12/to-no-one-in-particular/ She had the voice of a familiar friend—kind, confident, comfortable—but we had yet to meet. A friend of a friend of a friend. She’s good people, though, they led me to believe. So I placed my full trust in that belief. And why not? Why not take ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2007/12/04/blind-date/ I watched a movie tonight about a guy who was a month away from turning 30. He thought his life was in crisis. And maybe it was. After finding out he was going to be a father with his girlfriend of three years, he was terrified and confused. Then he ... http://vicariousvagabond.com/writing/2007/09/20/approaching-30/