“Some people rebuild because it’s their duty. Others rebuild because they can’t bear to walk away.” The floodwaters took most of the night to recede, leaving behind a smell of river mud and diesel fuel. By sunrise, the whole town felt washed in gray: storefronts boarded, debris tangled in the guardrails, the air heavy with the kind of silence that comes only after something has broken. Jackson stepped off the bus and saw people gathering — neighbors carrying shovels, voluntee

“Some birds leave only to return later, in some distant future. Some were never yours to begin with.” Following the flood a waterline still marked on the diner wall. Faint, muddy, shoulder high. They’d scrubbed it three times, but it never disappears completely. Kind of like the ache in Jackson’s chest. Whole blocks are gone.  Some homes collapsed like wet cardboard. Some were bulldozed before their owners had a chance to return. Nobody talks about the development plans, but

“This storm’s been building a long time.” - Jackson The rain started before sunrise. By the time Jackson stepped off his bus at work, the gutters were overflowing and a gale wind was tugging at the plastic tarp someone had stapled over the warehouse roof weeks ago — still waiting on a work order. Nobody fixed things around here unless someone got hurt. Inside the breakroom, the floor was slick with muddy footprints. Jackson poured coffee into a styrofoam cup and stared out t

“You write your truth, I’ll write mine.” It wasn’t meant to be public. The letter started as a scribbled draft on the back of a shipping label — a way for Jackson to vent. After the third time watching Councilwoman Marjorie’s interview replay on the breakroom TV, something in him cracked. She was smiling again. Saying her hands were tied. Saying the town had to make “tough choices.” He hadn’t planned to hit send. But his thumb did it anyway. By the time his shift ended, it wa

“You write your truth, I’ll write mine.” It wasn’t meant to be public. The letter started as a scribbled draft on the back of a shipping label — a way for Jackson to vent. After the third time watching Councilwoman Marjorie’s interview replay on the breakroom TV, something in him cracked. She was smiling again. Saying her hands were tied. Saying the town had to make “tough choices.” He hadn’t planned to hit send. But his thumb did it anyway. By the time his shift ended, it wa

Episode 3: I’ve Got A Social Disease Posted October 27, 2025 “Loving something means fighting for it when it’s sick.” — Asha On his day off, Jackson usually found himself sitting in his usual window booth having a late breakfast or lunch. He found the same torn vinyl, same chipped Formica comforting. The steam from his coffee rose and vanished in the sun’s glare as it filtered through the diner’s window. The days were growing shorter as fall shifted towards winter and outside

Artwork: Jackson and Jane, reading the signs. Posted October 20, 2025 “Some folks see saucers. Some folks see spotlights. Same sky,...

Posted October 13, 2025 “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” — Marcellus,Hamlet Marcellus always stood a little taller when he...

Artwork: Who is that handsome guy in the background? Could it be, the one and only Mr. Pudding Jackson? 10/06/2025 I am in that final...

“ Kings of Mediocrity”, Pudding Jackson’s first album has been out for about 9 months now. It was incredibly personal and intimate at...

Today is June 10th, 2024 and at this point I’ve realized tremendous success having met my one of my life-long goals: sharing my music...