Bulbous vein-ridden Portnoy Picasso pastiche, sitting over there on the train. Next to the drooling trancer falling asleep. How did you find the world when you woke up? Sneakers are valued above health. Haves and have-nots. Thinks and think- nots. We depreciate as soon as we drive off the lot of our mother’s womb. Never to return. Moving ever forward, and continually backward. Waiting takes up a lot of it. Sleeping takes up a lot of it. Despondent uncertainty takes up a lot of it. Good things are sparse and seem better anticipated than actual. But we all do it. We all groove to the tomb. Some fast, some slow. Reason and no reason. Scared as fuck. Moments, silent reflective moments where we find a communion in microscopic universal magnetic moments. The marrow of living exists in the space time continuum shared between strangers becoming friends. Shouting into an apathetic abyss. Wanting to leave evidence of existence. No God. No ghosts. Just present moments unfolding ever forward. Continually backward.Passing it on. Passing on.
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Published by Christopher Hickey
Welcome to my effort. Yes, as a great procrastinator, it requires great effort to stay focused on something productive that matters to me. I’ll find any old excuse to traipse from project to project, and I rarely end up at the place I started. I find this maddening, and exhaustive. So it is with high hopes, and a greater grasp of self-awareness, that I embark upon staying the course so to speak.
I enjoy writing. Be it blogs, fiction, poetry, etc. I love the craft and the act of creation, the art in and of itself, for it’s own sake and end. I am happy to be able to do it.
Some stats:
Born: March 1974
Education:
St.Francis de Sales, Charlestown MA
Don Bosco Technical High School, Boston MA
University of Massachusetts at Lowell, Lowell MA
Bunker Hill Community College, Charlestown MA
DePaul University, Chicago, IL
North Virginia Community College, Arlington VA
Harvard Extension School, Cambridge MA
Place of residence: Somewhere in the land of metro Boston. It’s vaguely familiar and becoming home more and more by the day, but when you come from “The Town” all else fails by comparison.
Favorite Color: I’m partial to all forms of blue.
Favorite Author: c’mon! don’t expect me to answer that, there are too many.
I enjoy memories of playing 80’s Atari better than playing any advanced gaming system that exists today.
Some day:
Hope to be recognized for my paper clip collection. As well as my 27 rejected applications to Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailiey Clown college.
View all posts by Christopher Hickey
Bulbous vein-ridden Portnoy Picasso pastiche, sitting over there on the train. Next to the drooling trancer falling asleep. How did you find the world when you woke up? Sneakers are valued above health. Haves and have-nots. Thinks and think- nots. We depreciate as soon as we drive off the lot of our mother’s womb. Never to return. Moving ever forward, and continually backward. Waiting takes up a lot of it. Sleeping takes up a lot of it. Despondent uncertainty takes up a lot of it. Good things are sparse and seem better anticipated than actual. But we all do it. We all groove to the tomb. Some fast, some slow. Reason and no reason. Scared as fuck. Moments, silent reflective moments where we find a communion in microscopic universal magnetic moments. The marrow of living exists in the space time continuum shared between strangers becoming friends. Shouting into an apathetic abyss. Wanting to leave evidence of existence. No God. No ghosts. Just present moments unfolding ever forward. Continually backward.Passing it on. Passing on. 
