Displaced. Dysfunctional. Discombobulated.
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When I close my eyes, I can still see in my Mind’s Eye a shadowy, magical room lit merely by the glowing, flashing lights of a Christmas tree that stretched from the floor next to the brick fireplace all the way to the ceiling where the packed bookshelves taunted me with thick, unread books filled [...]
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I used to be terrified of flying. They used to have to pump me up with tranquilizers to get me on the airplane. Just the very thought of being in a tin can flinging itself all of those miles above the ground seemed very wrong to me. My mother used to [...]
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What: The discombobulated inner-monologue of a single, thirty-something, displaced Southerner in small town New England.
Where: Maine
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