Dr. Littlejohn Gets Carried Away

Ah, a crisp, autumn morning, a cup of French roast, and just a nip of opium. But not too much! I’ve a lecture at the Academy at noon, and need catching up on the latest in electrophysiology for my closing remarks. But it is early yet. Just a pinch in my pipe, and a look…

Standing in the shower thinking

The heel of my hand accidentally hits the wall of the shower and a resonant bass note sounds. I strike the wall of the shower again, start to pound out a drum beat with my knuckles and the fat part of my fist. Long-dormant synapses fire, the beat of an old song rises in my…

The Bad Thought

Yeah, do you come up with your own thoughts? I think so. Do you? Cause I had a thought the other day that wasn’t mine. What was it? F@#k God. Oh my. Yeah. That’s — that’s awful. Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t your thought? No. I didn’t think it. Who did? What do…

Rachel doesn’t

Rachel is going to call tonight. This is a big deal. I will have to be on my game. There must be charm, exuberance, a certain joie de vivre, as the French say. I don’t know what this means, I’ve just heard they say it, and it sounds good in my head. Something to shoot…

Hope calls

Friday Night The phone rings. I hate it when it does that. I answer anyway. “Walt?” “Yes.” “Hi. Umm…” I blink. Wait. “I just wanted to call. My name’s Hope.” I’m sitting on my bed, facing the window. I check the clock on my nightstand, wonder where my ride is. We’re going to be late. “Okay…”…

The underlying theme

In the film version, this scene starts with a close shot of a white ball on a green tee, a one-wood whooshing and clinking solidly, a ball soaring off towards the green. In this version, the real one, the club head comes in too high, conks the top of the ball, ball dribbles thirty yards…

The guy who played the skipper

The glossy pictures in Hit Parader magazine show the drummer using black-and-white-striped drumsticks, and Kevin DuBrow’s mic stand is striped black-and-white too.  The white pvc pipe of the first nunchucks look a little plain next to the new ones made of whittled wood. There’s black electrical tape in the garage. I wrap it around the pipe…

The luthier

He hears in his head the rich, sweet note that has never been heard. The single, slow stroke from the bow sustained, before the bow is conceived. How can it be brought forth? he wonders. His heels crunch fallen leaves on the forest trail. His right hand on his cane, his left caressing the bark of…

Quitting the Easy Way

May 3, 2017 I stop at the Buc-ee’s in Madisonville because I’ve been here before, they have clean restrooms and the wine that’ll work and it’s chilled. I choose the entrance at the opposite end from the wine because it’s the one we used last summer on the drive to Galveston with the girls. I…

Money Love Gun

When the shooting stops seventeen more kids are dead. But the shooting doesn’t stop. It happens again. And again. And again. Could happen today, could be my kids get shot. The total is almost 200,000, not including the dead, the number of kids still alive with lives destroyed from witnessing other kids ripped apart by…