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Featured Stories


Oct 16th, 2021 · Nonfiction | Travel

We called a studio apartment in Frankfurt home for our first eight days abroad. It was a corner unit on the fifth floor of a ten-story building and looked out over the winding Main River in one direction and toward downtown Frankfurt’s skyscrapers in the other. Half-a-dozen stone bridges crossed the waterway, which I'm sure is small by global standards, but is larger than any river back in Colorado.


Oct 9th, 2021 · Nonfiction | Travel

We arrived in Washington, DC on a Monday afternoon and were excited to see our home for the final month we’d spend in the US before departing for Europe. Shelby parked the car outside of our building as sunlight poured in through the windshield, heating the black leather and plastic interior. When I opened the door, the air was sticky with humidity and the skin of my upper lip and armpits started perspiring. The forecast called for a high in the upper nineties, but it felt hotter.

The Concrete Jungle

Sep 19th, 2021 · Nonfiction | Travel

I’m not from a big city, or even a city at all for that matter. I’m from the whitest of white suburbia. I grew up about 10 miles outside of Boulder, Colorado, and to me, “the city” has always been Boulder, a college town with a population of ~105,000 full-time residents.

Section Break


Nomad Life

 Nonfiction | Travel

Sometimes the answer hides in plain sight, closer than you think to look. Other times, you have to venture far from home to find it.

This is my journey inspired not by a bucket-list, but a search for meaning.

This story is one told through my inner exploration, not rose-colored glasses or engineered photographs.

This is the reality of my nomadic life, as raw and honest as I can tell it.

Tales of Twilight

 Fiction | Thriller | Short Story

Mortality is easy to neglect. Nature programs us to cope with the inevitability of our own death by burying it deep within the layers of our consciousness. Occasionally, a hand of the shadow breaks through, squeezing and twisting our minds, forcing us to take notice. We act. Then we forget, as the hand is pushed back down and buried under fresh soil.

Many people have searched for the meaning of life, but clarity only comes in those final moments, when we walk the dark path that we all must walk.

Dishroom Blunders

 Nonfiction | Food

Back when I was a recent college graduate, the startup I worked for was acquired by a UK company. I ended up flying to London for work several times per year. I was in the office during the days, but at night I ventured out into the city to explore the various cuisines. One of my favorite restaurants in the world is an Indian place called Dishoom. My boss took me and a few of my coworkers one day after work, and after that I ate there several times each trip I took to London.

The unfortunate part of the story is that I read "Dishoom" as "Dishroom." For an entire two-week business trip, I told everyone at our office about my new favorite food at "Dishroom," and the Brits being polite as they are never corrected me. I must have said it incorrectly to half the office. It wasn't until I went back home and showed my wife their website that she corrected my pronunciation.

In honor of my favorite restaurant and the blunder I made out of its name, I've decided to call this food-inspired collection of stories "Dishroom Blunders."

This is a collection of food stories and my attempts to recreate some of my favorite foods I've sampled on our nomadic travels.

Lost in a Sea of Words


Writing is difficult. There's grammar, prose, dialog, and all the other literary elements you have to wrangle, but that's not the hardest part.

People read stories they relate to. If you want to write those stories, you have to be vulnerable, honest, and self-reflective to a degree that's both challenging to achieve, and uncomfortable to attempt.

This collection of stories is my journal as I venture down the path of an author.