There was a single window to the cell through which I watched the sun and the moon rise in rotation five times, guided between the iron bars. I spent most of my time watching those yellow and white balls slung skyward in their cosmic juggle. The sky burns lilac and…

Grady was, when I first saw him, less than a year old. He was tall and slender, waving his half-length stump of a tail behind him, and he stared at me through the pane of glass that separated us, keeping me from laying my hands on his black-and-tan bespeckled coat…

One of my most cherished pastimes involves flicking my stumpy thumb over Facebook’s carousel of friend suggestions. There’s no nostalgia in this. There’s no longing for the past or remembering better days — quite the opposite. There’s nothing wholesome at all about what I do. The point is to be…

Ryan Shulman

Modern Beatnik. Unyielding cynic. Irate writer. Dog scratcher. Gamer nerd. Insatiable recluse. You can cut my head off, but you will never shave my beard.

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