Tag Archives: Bukowski

Winter’s playground is closed for the season

If you were to look back through a hole at your life, if it were like a kaleidoscope when held to the light, the days would fold in on themselves and combine, and collapse to form a frame called “your … Continue reading

Posted in death, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 21 Comments

On the Road, with Robert Smith (1987)

God bless my dad, that summer we drove out west and only had three tapes, two of them mine. We took a train from Chicago to Denver where we rented a car and camped around the Rockies, then drove to … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, music, musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

And now, this is what 8 o’clock feels like

In 1994, Bukowski died at 73. It’s hard to imagine we have so many days until we don’t. He said don’t die before you’re dead, hold your head under the water, play the violin. Plant tulips in the rain. But … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 11 Comments

We dropped the flyer for the middle school orchestra concert between the bleachers and left the chicken on the refrigerator

I got so mad at the chicken I roasted I couldn’t even eat it. I started working on it at 2 PM but it wasn’t ready, and out of the oven, until just after 6, right when Lily needed to … Continue reading

Posted in humor, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 26 Comments

‘The chances were, they wouldn’t’

I sat at the bar watching golf. Behind me, three general contractors who swore a lot, talking about their jobs. I thought about saying something. I pictured how I’d do it. But after listening to them for a while, like … Continue reading

Posted in musings, prose | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments

Song for Friday, Monday, the weekdays

Worked into the tapestry of life is work itself, it’s inseparable, in fact it will loosen and destroy the fabric of life in its absence the way pests get into the woodwork or wardrobe and ruin you with holes. Work … Continue reading

Posted in musings | Tagged , , , , , | 23 Comments

Factotum (for Peel)

After college I moved to the beach and got a job delivering pizzas; my friend Peel moved to New York and dabbled in homelessness and then on to Portland, where he fell in with a group of shoplifters who returned … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments