J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

Writing, for me at least, is perhaps one of my most selfish endeavors, amounting to a therapeutic gushing of self expression. It is means to core-dump all of my stress and anxiety into something a tad bit more productive. Relieving the tremendous pressure in my head by allowing the maelstrom of words and ideas to dissipate, the act itself, typing the words on the screen before me, is akin to turning that pressure gauge down before the boiler blows. It’s something I must do for me, ergo egocentric. BUT… (isn’t there’s always a but…) let’s face it – if I wasn’t sharing my words, then I’d basically be just talking to myself which, as we all know, is one step away from living by myself in a house full of cats and trying to teach them to meow the tune to It’s a Small World After All. (It can be done, if I can just get Mr. Wiggles and Princess Prancy-Paws to work on their timing.) Point being: Yes, the underlying act of writing is a selfish cause designed to benefit me, myself and the voice...

For some reason my old college apartment popped in my head this afternoon, prompting this foray into my imagination. Read. Discuss. Give thoughts. Enjoy! ______________________________________             “Do it.”             “No.”             “I said do it!”             “NO!” he yelled emphatically before covering his mouth with his hand. It didn’t matter. There was no one there to hear him. Cameron Reedle was most definitely alone. As he turned to scan his surroundings Cam did indeed confirm that his was the only breath in the room. The voice he heard was his own, and it was the same voice he heard almost every Friday night like clockwork. In those moments he deeply regretted his decision not to move after graduation. Instead, he kept the same dumpy apartment he had ...