Papa was a headbanger. No, I didn’t call my father Papa, but when I wrote “Dad was a headbanger,” the Temptations song Papa was a Rolling Stone popped into my head. I needed to change what I wrote. Of course, Suzy is a Headbanger by the Ramones could have just as easily sprung up in … Continue reading Headbanger
Creative Nonfiction
Windows to my Soul
At my 8th grade lunch table, we compared hands, budding palm readers, one and all. Marcus Pappas blurted out "Cann's and mine look like old lady hands." He had a point—thin and boney—but it irked me that he said this out loud. Marcus died thirty-five years ago while still good looking, except, I suppose, his … Continue reading Windows to my Soul
Duck Appropriation
I first read about the ducks during the early days of the pandemic. An out-of-work elementary teacher wrote a blog post about ducking. When she spotted a Jeep in a parking lot, she squeezed a rubber duck into the door handle. A gift for a kindred soul, she said, knowing that all Jeep owners are … Continue reading Duck Appropriation
Mmmm
“Mmmm.” A dozen voices in unison. Heads nod, claps splatter, polite, but well intentioned. “Wooo, Jenny!” One guy does the snapping thing. By the third reader, I begin to anticipate the Mmmm, an exclamation of knowing approval. After every poem: Mmmm. By coincidence, this happened a couple of weeks ago during an interview. A strong … Continue reading Mmmm
He Dug Metallic Gold
As a kid, I read the cereal box while I ate breakfast. No, I’m not the only one. My brothers did this too, and on TV, characters on sit-coms and commercials would sometimes be shown reading the box. I think it was a thing. Sugary cereals often had content printed on the box to distract … Continue reading He Dug Metallic Gold
What I Told to Al-Anon
Photo by Dennis Steinauer Darrin and I bantered about alcohol, as people often do. We joked about sneaking a flask into an inappropriate venue—not sure I can remember which one, maybe the book sale we’re both working in July. Sarcasm, not seriousness. Guy talk. Tribe talk. Then I fessed up. “I’m nine years sober.” Nine … Continue reading What I Told to Al-Anon
Clatter
Last weekend I bought new hearing aids. Well, I bought them weeks ago, but I had to wait for this past weekend for them to arrive. This is my third pair. I started wearing them eight years ago, and each pair died in exactly four years. Since 2017, I’ve dropped six thousand dollars trying to … Continue reading Clatter
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?
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
The Mad Pooper
We lined the dance floor like so many middle school boys building the nerve to ask Sally Barkin to dance, only now with longneck Buds in hand. The turnout was light. This was a drinking crowd, not a dancing crowd. Laurie promised a dance party and honestly, I think that kept people away. A few … Continue reading The Mad Pooper
Some Strange Music
I pass daily by the new fiction shelves. The books on display, each cracked open to forty-five degrees, stand on their own. I used to stop here to browse on my way into work, my accounting job at the library system. All lights out except the nighttime emergency light, opening time still an hour away. … Continue reading Some Strange Music
The Sweet Scent of Decay
It started as a running blog. I named it Running, Writing, Other Stuff. Sure, sometimes I wrote about other stuff, but the emphasis was running. Five of my first eight posts focused exclusively on running. It morphed quickly, though. There’s only so much you can write about running, or maybe I should say there’s only … Continue reading The Sweet Scent of Decay
Memory Box
A souvenir glass from a Brickskeller beer tasting, German Doppelbocks, the same night America bombed Iraq. Operation Desert Storm, they called it, but I didn’t know this until the morning paper arrived. Still wet from my shower as I primped to head out for the night, I saw on TV that the attack had started. … Continue reading Memory Box
Look!
Caution: Old dude rambling about old music no one listens to anymore. In fact, skip this post altogether. I’m the only one on the planet who cares about any of this. You’ve been warned. ~ ~ ~ Drowsing on my couch, my head throbbing with pain, my nose feels the size of a lemon, NO, … Continue reading Look!
Blink
“You don’t blink.” This was Dr. Goddard. Over the past forty-minutes he treated me with a blend of distrust and annoyance. Now he suddenly seemed empathetic, maybe even friendly. “How many did you count Susan?” “Three, maybe four. Not really even blinks though.” “Right, half blinks. I blinked fifty times over the seventy seconds I … Continue reading Blink
A Town Called Malice
I pull open the heavy glass door releasing a cacophony of voices and blaring music. None of this is right. Antica Napoli, my favorite pizza shop is a store-front joint with eight booths. It’s calm and quiet. Typically two, maybe three booths host a couple of people, usually senior citizens. One booth is set up … Continue reading A Town Called Malice
Dear Psychiatrist Sam
Dear Psychiatrist Sam, My husband has Tourette syndrome and OCD. Years ago, before he began a twice-daily dose of antipsychotics to reduce his Tourette tics (unwanted movements and vocalizations) intrusive OCD thoughts regularly dragged him out of bed in the small hours of the morning. As a happy side effect of that medication, those intrusive … Continue reading Dear Psychiatrist Sam
At the Checkout
As soon as I pause, she swoops in to assist. I always pause. I need a moment to count items in my head, or figure out how to enter my rewards card, or wonder who that was who said ‘Hi’ in aisle five. This is self-checkout at my favorite grocery store, the small one up … Continue reading At the Checkout
Animosity
He gazed out the passenger window, captivated by a farmhouse as it passed them by, the mood in the car foul to match the day. A flag, outstretched but folded upon itself matted with rain, splashed a muted stain against a pewter sky. A pond stretched, roadway to stoop with grass tufts lily padding the … Continue reading Animosity
Race Day
This is the last post I'm salvaging from undercrust.blogspot.com. There's more there, but honestly nothing I feel compelled to keep. The following post was written when my OCD was still unmedicated. Take a bunch of intrusive thoughts and mix in a healthy dose of situational anxiety--this captures well what went on in my brain in … Continue reading Race Day
The Other Stuff 