Bones & Blood (a listicle)

Diary entry from near my birthday in January, 2017: As a toddler, I was startled to learn from my larger, older cousin that a kid (say, for example, a larger, older cousin) could deploy a toy truck made from six pounds of rock maple as an effective, two-armed cudgel. That was the first time I … [more]

Darkly Dawns the Solstice

A couple of years later, I left the careful silence of our never-home apartment to spend my birthday alone, sleeping rough under a ’58 Willys in the company of my good dog Junior and a dented bourbon flask.

Happy Day

Can’t hit an unwavering, choirboy-pure high note anymore (hi, Mom!), but these days I kinda like shuffling through a few songs, growling like Tom Waits’s bartender. There are few fucks left to give and each time I find one, I do my best to pass it down to our kids.

Light One Candle

I don’t know his name and never will. That candle is hard for me to label, and even harder to light. May his memory, tough though that is, be for a blessing.

Outcomes

I’m not proud of any of this. As I write this, it’s National Coming Out Day. That’s not my day, any more than Black Lives Matter is my life. I don’t have any desire to dorksplain the meaning of situations, life circumstances, or events to which I am not party. More important to listen, I … [more]

Out of sync, out of season, and probably not for you

From ca. 2009: For a while, I’d hated going into Costco, but I was getting past that. It’s just, well… there’s all that harsh, white light. Tons of people, too many to watch, and confusing levels of background noise. And all those god-damned lights… did we talk about the lights? No way to tell who’s … [more]

Settle Down

If you believe only G-d can judge you, but you blithely affirm that gays are sinners… If you believe every woman has the right to an abortion, but no man has the right to a gun… If you’re pretty sure the definition of terrorism turns more on egalitarian memes than on the motives of murdering … [more]

Not even slightly about Harvey Weinstein

Decades ago, when I was younger and taller and faster and dumber, I found the big red Guzzi parked on a carpet of flattened beer cans and discarded condoms in the alcove under a staircase at our Mission-style barracks on Fort Sill, leaned down to the clubman bars, and rolled her out onto the wet … [more]