first lines from long-form pieces i may never write
"We've arrived at the Ramada Inn in Quantico, Virginia and my father-in-law has already described the place as a 'shithole' twice before we check in. Domestic beer resides in the hand of every adult striding through or sitting in the lobby, and as we are introduced to a circle of veteran Marines swapping war stories (the real kind), I suddenly notice that I have started bleeding from a spot on my forearm for no discernible reason."
more stuff to follow as i endeavor to get back on some sort of moderately regular publishing schedule.