<Slurring> “I know zhu believe that. We TALKED about thish BEFORE!” I waited, lined up in the pub. No servers here, you want something, you order it at the counter—food, drink, merch. Or maybe at the bar, if you’re lucky enough to get a seat at the bar. Five, six people away from the register. … Continue reading Poke at the Hive
Beer
AF
Computers are creepy. Years ago, I decided to cut my own hair. Before that, I went to a salon. Not a barber, a salon. When I moved to Gettysburg, the Welcome Wagon, which is simply an old lady who comes to your house, gave me a coupon for a free haircut at Georgia’s Mane Attraction. … Continue reading AF
When I was a D!ck
Years ago, when I joined The Writers' Brigade, Gettysburg's only public writers' group, long-time member Keith Johnson put a name to the steady stream of intensely personal prose I churned out. He called it confessional nonfiction. The name fit. Much of what I produced seemed to spring from an uncontrollable desire to come clean. To … Continue reading When I was a D!ck
Pornography
Published one year ago this week in my memoir Fragments. My mother's birthday was last week. I totally forgot. Percussive. Dark, haunting, haunted. Repetitive, chromatic – evoking angst, possibly fear. Lyrics shouted from a distance, from the bottom of a ravine. Echoing, urgent. Chanting, mumbling, confusion. Chest tight, stomach in knots. Eight complex songs, each … Continue reading Pornography
Never again
Saturday at noon: “Jeff, go grab a beer.” “Hey Jeff, can I pour you a mug?” “Get a glass; you deserve a cold one.” This was a few minutes after I finished a 15K. I heard the same thing after a June marathon, a September 10K, the other day at work. “Jeff drop by tonight, … Continue reading Never again
The Other Stuff 