The repurposed barge pushed us along the Seine. Intermittent raindrops peppered the river and gave way to the as-advertised romanticism that surrounded us. The cool air was tempered by the moment: we were exactly where she wanted us to be. … Read More ›
The sun burnt my skin, sour candy formed one of those strange bump things on my tongue, and even, just once or twice, a rogue glass-too-many hurt my head the next morning. Too much of a good thing can be,… Read More ›
We swatted in a midnight haze at a mosquito with a familiar craze. Could it be the same one that punished us for my excessive limoncello session the eve before our wedding? Same place, more or less,… Read More ›
Stream of conscious. Streams are a conscious thought, now. I used to collect tadpoles with my brother. I used to pretend the lazy water turned into rapids and my tadpoles were saved from impending death-by-rock-and-water. Just maybe, I saved them…. Read More ›
The world’s greatest poet couldn’t tell you what the last two years meant to me. The best photographer couldn’t paint a picture to show you how that time lived through me. Even I, the person with the view and ear… Read More ›
Writers use prompts to rev up their arguably creative minds. I am partial to “What If?” (A. Bernays and P. Painter), at least when I am in the prompting mood. The prompts often remind me of childhood, when “what if?”… Read More ›
William Blake, the source of the title quote, was onto something about excess. But sometimes, I just don’t get it. My hotel room this week in the Bay Area was not exactly three star, yet it had a phone… Read More ›
If you can’t take the heat, get out of the way. It was one of those days. I overslept. I missed my train. I stood on the platform and hoped for summerwhile the leaves forgot green. I forgotmy breakfast bar. I… Read More ›
It was always on the corner of Los Angeles Ave and First St, right by Lenny Dykstra’s Car Wash. At least that is how I remember the starting line. We’d crawl up from the back seat and watch the red light, just past my… Read More ›
On the one hand, I’m Irish. It’s hard to remember the color the leaves from the days behind us. They changed without asking me to take notice, and now I am afraid the green has turned to brown and I missed… Read More ›
eternal Domnation 