Against the gritty backdrop of Gotham, where evildoers lurk in shadowy alleyways and crime never takes a day off, one caped figure stands slouched, hunched with terrible posture on the tallest rooftops, watching over the city and its populace, feeling all the feels and swallowing all its pain: It’s Emotive Man. Part 1 – The … Continue reading Emotive Man
Author: Jeff Cann
The Book of Losman
Losman and I are identical. I often felt like I was reading about myself. So much so, that by page seventy-five, I was so agitated I almost stopped reading altogether. This is an excerpt from an email I sent to Kyle Semmel the other day. He’s the author of the book I just finished. Right … Continue reading The Book of Losman
Shouting into an Echo Chamber
When class ended, they fist bumped and stretched their legs and grabbed paper towels to wipe down their bikes. A couple of shouts of “good class,” and “thanks Jeff” and people filed out of the room. As they left, I gave a quick plug for my next class, “I’ll see y’all on Saturday at eight,” … Continue reading Shouting into an Echo Chamber
Thankful
Is this finally our year? No guests, no invites, no one to please but ourselves. No turkey or stuffing. No cringy corn. None of Julie’s carrot stew I pretend to enjoy. No football on TV or bottles of zin to make me regret sobriety. No arguments about immigration while we eat. A mid-day hike. A … Continue reading Thankful
Medium Well
“Joan of Arc is alive and medium well.” My brother read this sentence out of a joke book. I was seven or eight years old. I stared at him blankly. “Funny, right?” “I don’t get it.” Exasperated: “Joan of Arc was a medium. They burned her at the stake. Get it? Cooked? Medium well?” “What’s … Continue reading Medium Well
The Mourning After
I woke up this morning, the morning after election day, and thought, “Oh! This is the country I live in!” I apologize to my overseas friends, we let you down. But we can stop the debate; we now know who we are. We elected a serial and self-proclaimed sexual abuser, a felon, a man who … Continue reading The Mourning After
Box of Rain
Can we all finally agree that the on-going cultural relevance of Nirvana far exceeds that of the Grateful Dead? August 9, 1995, I showed up at Dean’s Arlington, Virginia house for book club. No, I can’t remember what we read, and in fact this may have been my last month as a participant. My decades-long … Continue reading Box of Rain
Eulogy 2.0
Almost a month ago, I posted a story titled Eulogy written the day after my father died. While it was clearly about my father's death, it was about me more than him. Yesterday was his memorial service, and what follows is what I read. It contains element of the first piece but shifts the focus. … Continue reading Eulogy 2.0
Apologize all you want…
Apologize all you want, you're still a Dirt-Bag.* Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese stepped into a big stinking pile of Donald Trump the other day. Like so many American politicians repeatedly do, Albanese showed his true colors when he became annoyed with political opponents who interrupted him. “Do you have Tourette’s or something? You know, … Continue reading Apologize all you want…
Eulogy
When he turned seventy, we gathered in a nondescript Rockville restaurant, a long table in a windowed annex, tall potted ferns decorated the space. His wife Diane, her kids, my brothers David, Dana, our spouses and me. Those who had children brought them. My father made a speech, wrapping it up with “I hope to … Continue reading Eulogy
Why? Simply why?
The shops in downtown Jackson cater to the obscenely rich. We popped into several on Sunday morning while Sophie searched for a western belt. She found a beautiful one with a black and natural leather finish—pricey, but worth it. Clearly high quality, did I already say beautiful? Many of the shops sold junk, the sort … Continue reading Why? Simply why?
Killing Time at Midway
We found a sanctuary, a person-free oasis in a sea of humanity. Let me describe that humanity: it’s nine o’clock, the early one, still breakfast time. We just got off a plane from Baltimore. In Chicago, they line the bars. The Home Run, R.J. Grunts, and The Hubbard Inn. Bloody Marys, mimosas, beers, low balls, … Continue reading Killing Time at Midway
Suitcase
I bought a new suitcase before we flew to France. We all did, my whole family. Over the years, our travel bags wore out. Broken zippers mostly, plus they were all duffels. The airline gave us specific maximum dimensions for our one allotted bag each. They had a slot at the ticket counter to measure … Continue reading Suitcase
Death by a Thousand Cuts
As a nation, we marched in this direction for years, still it caught everyone off guard. It started with weed. Thirty-seven states already legalized it. Four more headed in that direction. Lots of talk during the months before the election of repealing the federal law altogether—no one enforced it anyway. As soon as he took … Continue reading Death by a Thousand Cuts
Identity
Stacey blogged about coffee. A bad night’s sleep, she wrote, and then straight to the coffee pot. We met on WordPress when I was addicted, each of us describing the pull of the brew. An elixir, she calls it. By definition, elixirs are magical or medicinal. For me, coffee is both. Was. I commented on … Continue reading Identity
Ants Go Marching
The ants are back. This time invading the pantry, which is where you would expect to find ants, rather than the medicine cabinet or the surface around the clean dishes where we found them last time. A few minutes earlier, I joked about the ants. “Haha, remember the ants?” Susan was making pizza dough. I … Continue reading Ants Go Marching
This n’ That
I dreamed I drove a road that disappeared into a puddle and then into a sea. The water lapped the lower edges of my hood before I put my car in reverse. I dreamed I needed Pop Tarts, but a regional shortage made them impossible to find. I went shop to shop but found none. … Continue reading This n’ That
Deported
2026 When they told me I had to leave the country, it felt like complete nonsense. Jeanette and I discussed emigrating at least a dozen times over the past eight years, hoping to bail on our shifting society. We identified countries that might work—the English speakers: Canada of course. Australia. New Zealand sounds appealing. I … Continue reading Deported
Heartache
It's a heartacheNothing but a heartacheHits you when it's too lateHits you when you're down -- Lyrics from It's a Heartache by Bonnie Tyler In 1978, my family broke tradition. Instead of renting our standard fourplex apartment in the sleepy 132nd block of Ocean City, Maryland, we stayed in a beachfront apartment in a high-rise … Continue reading Heartache
Fastball
Banner’s always been an oddball, let’s get that straight from the start. I tried to be nice to him around work, he seemed so lost and lonely all the time, but when I talked to him, he rarely responded with more than two or three syllables. I'm surprised he wanted to do something social like … Continue reading Fastball
The Other Stuff 