Memory - Adolescense

Bullies

Every one of my junior high school enemies was walking down Garden Drive towards me.

This Morning's News

Time for Fox News to stop being a corporate shill and report the news realistically. If you want the news, don't watch the Happy Pill Channel.

Sin
Note: This is part of a series based on exercises from A Writer's Book of Days. It's something of a...

News from Camp Granada

It's the fortieth anniversary of the song that Alan Sherman made famous: Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.

Smoker Patrol at the Studio

In the Studio Theater, I was the Law. I had power over them.

Locker Room Towels

The sweat of a thousand reused socks concentrated in a single off white eighteen inches by three foot piece of stiffish corduroy cloth.

Lunch Bag Theft

When I did tell the dean, he just sighed and said "You've got to protect your combination better."

Beyond the End of the Driveway

In those days, my high school years, my Catholic parents had arranged what amounted to a five day a week divorce.

Poison Tree

Last month when I told my mother about my discovery, she said "Your stupid grandfather ate lots of those berries and they never killed him."

August 1976 - Her name is no one's business

They say that Mormons and Catholics live to breed.

So aside from the catch of the blue book with the golden hornblower

the two of us should have been naturals in the flesh.

Falling from Grace

I only learned what a dick was because boys drew graphic pictures of the things all the time -- hair, urine, and wrinkled skin -- and pointed.

My Father and the Cruise Missile

The night the cruise missiles rained on Bagdhad in 1991, I lay in my bed. I was desperate; I was in a distinct, determined minority because of my opposition, and I was not at all quiet: I was screaming.

....and the horse you rode in on

Clint Eastwood taught many people that it was perfectly fine to be schizoid and hypocritical, to speak of love and act in a bellicose fashion; to promote yourself as honorable and cheat your way to the top.

Of Printer's Devils and Needlework

My grandmother was a talented artist with the needle and thread. She knew how to create eye-deceiving dappling that made her works seem alive.