On our first day back from Summer Break, my best friend Jimmy fell out of his chair clutching his knee, screaming. I laughed, believing this to be an out-of-place practical joke I was usually in on. Jimmy kept saying his… Continue Reading
Monty repaired typewriters. He knew all there was to know about repairing typewriters. And about the typewriters themselves. The back room in his north London semi was a private typewriter museum full of Underwoods, Olivettis, and Remingtons. He showed me… Continue Reading
One drink, another. Stack the spent $2 Hamms into a nice pyramid. The sun hasn’t even set yet. The drinks tonight are on the State of Illinois. See this leather jacket? Bet you’d never guess it belonged to Paul Newman.… Continue Reading
She was the wrong size. Everything about her was too much. She’d been told so all her life. For example, her words were too many and too big. “Not you, someone else,” her teacher said when she knew the answers… Continue Reading
We were twenty thousand feet above an uncharted lake when we passed through the rift. In that instant, our sky galleon began to fall. Where seconds before the sun had been shrouded in cloud, now the sky was blue and… Continue Reading
The homeless man at the interchange is a veteran too and that makes me uncomfortable, especially today. His unkempt beard hangs past his collar and weaves with the fraying strands of his jacket. Headphones adjust themselves over ears, eyes glance… Continue Reading
I know if Andy and Buddy could see me now, they’d kick my ass. But I can’t help it. She’s beautiful. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a girl this beautiful. Problem’s she’s colored. That’s why they’d kick my ass.… Continue Reading
Now for the eyes. They are last and most important. I make portraits, not from life but from my mind, remembrances, faces seen in passing which I bring to the canvas with paint. Once I add the eyes the image… Continue Reading
Early, too early, sudden alarm blaring, we swim up through the dim softness of sleep and we are awake. Breakfast in the dark, no coffee, bag packed and out the door into the underwater predawn light, the oaks and dogwoods… Continue Reading
Millie said he’d be lonely out in the hallway, so Guido stayed in our room. My arms around his chest and Millie lifting his ankles, we moved him across to the kitchenette and arranged him on the spare chair, his… Continue Reading