Category: Personal Essay
-
Ink Junk
This isn’t my heart on a TV show, isn’t my heart crushed on Cannery RowView post to subscribe to site newsletter. Read more
-
Have you heard of a cereal bowl that isn’t the size of an ashtray?
I looked at her, pure beauty radiating in the neon glow of the high hotel. “You’re always the positive end of the battery,” I said. “Cereal trouble may have killed me by now if it weren’t for you.” Read more
-
I Long to Live the Log Cabin Syrup Life
With the state of the world such as it is, I look to Log Cabin syrup to bring some sense of peace. I guess I always have. I would consider it one of my favorite food packaging labels of all time. “What a lunatic,” someone might say. “Who could possibly find comfort in a bottle Read more
-
Albuquerque French Fries
The mountains in Albuquerque are to the east. In most places I’ve lived, they were to the west. I always found that to be a bit strange, but maybe it’s not. But I was on the east side of Albuquerque, close to the mountains, when I was suddenly struck with an insatiable desire for FrenchView… Read more
-
Have you heard of not being summer?
I hate summer. Summer is a battle for me. I am like opposite bear and want to hibernate May through August – in a cave of ice, with a frosty mug of A and W root beer, my laptop, and really good internet service.View post to subscribe to site newsletter. Read more
-
Gwenhwyfar
She came down from the sky on a glowing escalator and I waited for her in the parking lot. But sometimes I think she was maybe there all along, maybe my entire life and I just didn’t see her because they can be invisible. She looks human. She has all the right parts in the… Read more
-
A SpongeBob a Day Keeps the Isolation at Bay
Most days of the week, I watch an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants with my 20-year-old stepson. It’s his favorite show, and he’s loved it since he was a child. I think he knows the title of every episode and what season it first aired. Read more
-
Lights and Dreams and Time
Two years straight and it still feels like the very first time I touched her. We drifted off clutching each other tight. Then we turned to sleep, our asses touching, the warmth of her back like a campfire. I listened to her breathe as I looked up at the purple stars of pretend. Read more
CEREAL AFTER SEX 