All The Waltzes...
Right On The Button
So I have this love affair with appliances. I mean, I kind of love them. And by ‘kind of’ I mean that ever since I stared at the agitator doing the Charleston in my mom’s washing machine back in the early 70′s, I’ve been subservient to this part of my brain that sort of tripe-wires anytime a washing machine goes
To alpha male from Alpha Male
See those eyes? Good. They’re on you. All the time. They were the first eyes you looked into the day you were born, and they’re the eyes that step into your room in the middle of the night, fifteen years later, just to make sure that’s you under the covers and not some pillows you’ve propped up to make it
Double Edge
When three people, completely unbeknownst to one another, try to pry out of me the very same answer, I realize I’m cornered and need to weigh in with what’s been going on and why I’ve been so blatantly negligent to writing on all fronts. I’m going to write unedited. Which I hate doing. Though I’m going to write somewhat generally,
Way Up West, Part III
“Way Up West,” not “Way Out West,” which is intentionally counter-intuitive as goes the common vernacular. I had turned and looked West to the mountains but found myself able to stare directly into the sunlight above because it was mercifully shrouded in veil enough to prevent blinding me. So. Way Up West. Have you ever noticed how maddening it is
Way Up West, Part II
Keep an eye on that photo above. It’s the same photo from the other day, just reversed and rendered in sepia tone. At the end of this story, I’ll pull the camera back and show you what resides outside the frame and what landed right between my eyes. There are about half a dozen of you around the world who,
Way Up West, Part I
I’m back. And here comes Where I’ve Been in this a small dose, that is, to make a bit more digestible a rather circuitous wandering. One week ago, on a day where Spring had more legitimate right than courage to assert herself, I pulled a wanting jacket and set my face toward a soccer field overrun with boys still in
Just In Case You Wondered
Remember the other day when you thought to yourself, “Geez! That poor little Emma is a helpless victim! Her brothers are always picking on her!” Yeah, well you can stop it now. . .
Luminal
Below is a paragraph I wrote about six years ago. I don’t recall what made me write it, but I’m guessing it came through me one afternoon in my backyard while I watched the gloaming. I have a lot of unanchored pieces — which is what I call them: odd bursts of writing that come through me and never from
Yes
Bear with me for a moment. Bailey, The Golden Recliner needs to be taken to the groomer. Bad. I mean…bad. It’s not like I can’t leash him into the walk-in shower and lather up the big fat hairy 9,000 volt battery that he is. It’s that I don’t want to come out covered in blood. Which I would. Because his
Romeo and Juliet…and Chris Mundell is Rad
Several years ago I was introduced (read: traumatized) to a naked guy riding a pillow and playing giddy-up down the hallway. After I poured bleach in my eyes (read: who am I kidding—this is genius!), I acquainted myself with what I consider one of the most unique wits and original talent on the web today. Ladies and gentlemen, I give
