hold mystery and grace, showing a sadness and familiar grace…” That’s all I remember of a poem I wrote in elementary school. For years and years and years I wanted a dog. For years and years and years mom and dad gifted me robotic terriers or stuffed dalmatians, but never a real dog. I searched my computer files to see if I’ve scanned that poem. I haven’t. But a couple of better files came up: life stories from my friends. […]
Categories: snippets
“Some people are so poor, all they have is money.” This was graffiti in Portland. A saw it. I’m glad he shared.
Categories: snippets
Bogie was a terrier: shaggy, brown, and low. Molly was a labrador: smooth and black like crows. Sibley was a cattle pup: speckled, sweet, and kind. Gumption was a pitbull mix: large, brown, and unrefined. Bogie’s man was a dentist: withered, old, and odd. Molly’s man was a flyfisher: sun speckled, witty, and flawed. Sibley’s man was a puzzle: layered, entertaining, and complex. Gumption’s man was a landscaper: a fan of botany and decks.
We were sitting in silence, fully absorbed in the compliments that had just been exchanged, lightly tracing each other’s waists, when she came down the stairs. “K just told me that he had a journal entry from the night….from the night Mr. Betty was killed.” Her eyes became more reflective and her lower lip quivered. “I’ll never forget that night. Never.” The following seven minutes were spent listening to her recount the barbaric tale of loosing her friend first, and […]
Categories: stories • Tags: death, diary, rooster, This American Life, urban farm, wet pants
Bacon is an old love of mine. Today the love is just a memory, but if I’m reminded about how I once felt, I’ll end up at a food truck, mindfully eating a bacon grilled cheese, paying attention to whether those original feelings still exist. The food truck is in Alameda. The original feelings don’t exist. My taste has changed and I prefer different flavors and textures now. Bacon had its run and it was a good one. I don’t […]
Categories: secrets
Malcolm Godwin’s book, “WHO ARE YOU? 101 WAYS OF SEEING YOURSELF” asks: “How much do you think your racial make-up has contributed to your mental, spiritual, and psychological view of the world? Would you say that it has: ….” Twenty four questions follow. I answered “no” to almost all of them which means, at least in the context of the presentation, that my race hasn’t played a strong part in the formation of my identity. Number 19, though, got a […]
Categories: stories • Tags: conversations, culture, ethnicity, Malcolm Godwin, questions
Categories: sounds • Tags: my heart with you, the rescues
“I feel sooooooooo bad. I really feel horrible. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Can I take you out to dinner or something? Please. Let me take you out to dinner.” I was kneeling on his floor with a bloody nose, swollen lips, and a couple of cute cuts. (They were cute -small and very happy to be alive and bleeding.) “I don’t even have anything here. Let me see if the neighbors are home […]
Categories: Uncategorized • Tags: bloody nose, Glendale, how to ask someone out on a date, short story
“You’re too young for a diary. You don’t have anything to write about.” Mom gave me this response every time I asked if I could have a diary. She was right. I’ve kept them all and for a solid year there’s nothing to read about except all the animals I wanted to take home when we would go to the pet store for parakeet food. Eventually boys show up. They faded quickly. The most consistent entries were dedicated to dreams, […]
Categories: snippets • Tags: all I've ever wanted, diaries, mom advice, secrets
The windows in her daughter’s room are bare, which is usually the case when I’m called out. Four walls of lavender, a white ceiling and trim, and peach picture molding sends me back to having my first unshared bedroom. It was lavender, I liked eating peaches, and I wore white cotton underwear. One window is to my left, facing the neighbor’s kitchen, and three windows straight ahead face the street. The installer knows that when he receives the shades, he’ll […]
Categories: stories • Tags: bare windows, children, craft time, privacy, rocking chair, window treatments
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