The businessmen rise early, dress smartly in tight pants and fleece vests. They map out their day, plan phone calls, taking care to sequence them properly. Many calls depend on prior ones, the results of previous conversations. Who reports to whom, who must know what by what time. Follow ups and proactive reachings-out. Partnerships and…
I dreamed about Kate last night. We sat behind her, me and the family, the wife and our girls, in Poland, in an auditorium, no leg room between our hard wooden seats and the ones in front, one of which was hers, Kate’s. As the massive crowd let out, outside, the girls ran ahead, as…
Milena was my partner for the ice breaker. I was fine with Milena, but I had my eyes on Agnieska, or Kate. We had to share our most memorable experience as teachers. The one where we deeply touched a student, I guess. I guess the point was to get us in the mood for touching…
After he won I was in shock for I-don’t-know how long. Weeks. Months. The world felt bizarre, surreal. I remember looking at people who looked like Republicans. I remember eating lunch in restaurants with people who looked like business people eating lunch. I’d come to know they were not to be trusted, but I didn’t…
In the 1980s, Mark Slaughter scored despite (or perhaps because of) these pants. The discerning student of 1980s Hair Metal will have noticed a proclivity for bands of the era to use the last name of their frontman as their band name. Winger, for example. Fronted by Kip Winger. Or as they said back in…
In Japan, there is a place called the Suicide Forest. It is well-known. Many people go there to… well, there’s no need to describe what they do there. But there are photographs of tattered necktie remnants hanging from tree branches. Bones below them half-covered with earth and vines. For example. In the 1990s, a style…
We were in Mexico, you and I, visiting your family, officially, but looking for your future wife, unofficially. You were, I mean — not me. Not that it matters. Anyway, you were lying on your bed, headphones on, listening to the new Flaming Lips CD, Clouds Taste Metallic, at my request. I asked what you thought.…
I met with a specialist. An expert in her field. Her field is a big one, many experts like her running around inside of it. Each of them with a certain area of expertise. Some of these experts overlap a bit, some of them are pretty far removed. No one knows everything. I’d been looking forward…
The American flag appears, flutters, assures me my ballot has in fact been cast. So they say. And a little graphic of an elephant appears, and out of his ass pops Colin Kaepernick, his Black Power fist held high.
And now here it is… the last post of the Halloween season. It’s by an actress from Holland who lives on a tiny Greek island, and it’s unlike anything else I’ve posted this month. It’s the perfect sentiment to finish with. It turns Halloween into something new, something wistful. It yearns. And I’m a sucker for wistful yearning.
The home of Yama, King of Death, was a craftsman bungalow near an urban area revitalized for Millenials. The plots in this neighborhood were tiny, the homes half the size of those in newer neighborhoods but twice the cost. Most had seen a non-load bearing wall removed to achieve an open floor concept. Owners of…
Ye shall know him as Ice Drummer, for that is his handle. (Like me, he prefers to lay low, so I will not spill his secret identity.) And this Waltoween submission of his is a little different from others in that it was never a submission, per se. Rather, it’s a story he shared with…
