#littletalks
I’m tired of being a one-woman army. I’ve spent three years building a "Sleeper Build" out of bone and lead, and honestly? My shoulders are starting to cramp from carrying the whole sky by myself. I’m looking for a Friend—someone my own age (15–21ish)—who sees the world through the same "savage" lens I do, to co-author a collection of duets.
Think of the song "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men. I want that back-and-forth, "you-say-I-say" rhythm where we finish each other’s thoughts because we’ve lived the same shipwreck. I’ve been a "Doc" for everyone else; I’m looking for someone who can be a "Safe Harbor" for me, and I’ll be one for you.
The "Application" (If you can call it that):
The Age Cap:
If you have a favorite brand of lawn fertilizer or you remember life before the iPhone, you’re too old to be my "Little Talks" partner. I love the "Grandfather Sweaters" and mentors on this site, but for this, I need a peer. I need someone who knows what it feels like to have their bike sent to the dump now, not thirty years ago.
The "Grit" Check:
You have to be okay with the Portland rain. I want a partner who knows that "savage" doesn't mean "mean"—it means you survived. If you’ve ever had to "rip the joint" and leave a home that didn't want the real you, you’re my kind of people.
The Philosophy:
No "Trumpie" rhetoric. My parents already have a monopoly on "law and order" in this house. I need a #Resistance co-conspirator who sees the "forty-six ghosts" on North Fessenden and feels that same ache in their chest.
The "Little Talks" Vibe:
We aren't just writing poems; we’re having a conversation. I’ll be tough on your metaphors because I care about the craft, but I’ll also be the one offering a band-aid when the world gets too loud. I’m a "Doc"—I’m mean to the "General," but I’m kind to my crew.
The Dream: A collection called "The Ghosts of North Fessenden." Ten poems where we talk about track meets, Navy dreams, and the phone calls we never wanted to end.
If you’re out there, and you’re a fellow "ghost in the machine" who is tired of being "counted out" by your own kitchen table—drop a line. Let’s make something that actually feels like peace.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 10:29 PM UTC
I’m tired of being a one-woman army. I’ve spent three years building a "Sleeper Build" out of bone and lead, and honestly? My shoulders are starting to cramp from carrying the whole sky by myself. I’m looking for a Friend—someone my own age (15–21ish)—who sees the world through the same "savage" lens I do, to co-author a collection of duets.
Think of the song "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men. I want that back-and-forth, "you-say-I-say" rhythm where we finish each other’s thoughts because we’ve lived the same shipwreck. I’ve been a "Doc" for everyone else; I’m looking for someone who can be a "Safe Harbor" for me, and I’ll be one for you.
The "Application" (If you can call it that):
The Age Cap:
If you have a favorite brand of lawn fertilizer or you remember life before the iPhone, you’re too old to be my "Little Talks" partner. I love the "Grandfather Sweaters" and mentors on this site, but for this, I need a peer. I need someone who knows what it feels like to have their bike sent to the dump now, not thirty years ago.
The "Grit" Check:
You have to be okay with the Portland rain. I want a partner who knows that "savage" doesn't mean "mean"—it means you survived. If you’ve ever had to "rip the joint" and leave a home that didn't want the real you, you’re my kind of people.
The Philosophy:
No "Trumpie" rhetoric. My parents already have a monopoly on "law and order" in this house. I need a #Resistance co-conspirator who sees the "forty-six ghosts" on North Fessenden and feels that same ache in their chest.
The "Little Talks" Vibe:
We aren't just writing poems; we’re having a conversation. I’ll be tough on your metaphors because I care about the craft, but I’ll also be the one offering a band-aid when the world gets too loud. I’m a "Doc"—I’m mean to the "General," but I’m kind to my crew.
The Dream: A collection called "The Ghosts of North Fessenden." Ten poems where we talk about track meets, Navy dreams, and the phone calls we never wanted to end.
If you’re out there, and you’re a fellow "ghost in the machine" who is tired of being "counted out" by your own kitchen table—drop a line. Let’s make something that actually feels like peace.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 10:28 PM UTC