The conversation of bullets.

Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or to forget? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives?

I had many boxing matches with my brother in the backyard when we were younger, and I guess while other people abhor boxing for its brutality, I also have to admire anyone who climbs into the ring to face up to what could be the ultimate defeat.

It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true--big things are often just small things that are noticed.

All my friends seem to be smart arses. Don't ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is.

You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.