Tag Archives: mid-life crisis

The sandtrap

Posted on January 22, 2019 by

There was not much new to the new year now, it seemed. Driving across the state, I ate a bag of wasabi-flavored smoked almonds in about 30 minutes, taking it by the handful, popping them one by one, wiping the … Continue reading →

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Sunday’s flattened head

Posted on January 20, 2019 by

On the five-hour drive to Brad’s cabin I kept it cool in the car to stay awake, to keep my cold tolerance up. Driving across the state to the east, how it all flattens to farmlands and big skies, windmills, … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , | 12 Comments

The day I turned purple (2019)

Posted on January 12, 2019 by

After 10 days without drinking, the swelling in my lower gut finally went down. A balloon losing air. On Monday I was offered a new job, and on Friday I turned in my laptop and said goodbye. The January bugs … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , | 28 Comments

Nice light from not much light

Posted on December 3, 2018 by

I went looking for the Jerry Garcia carving in the cutout by the lower greens, on the Halsey side, like the guy said. But it was foggy and damp, and what looked like Jerry on the other side of the … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Inside a broken clock splashing the wine with all the rain dogs

Posted on November 28, 2018 by

The rain now is that rain we associate as November rain in the Northwest. It has its own aspect, like no other. It is not a rain to be fucked with, and comes on hard and fouls up the roads, … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

‘Theft by finding’

Posted on November 26, 2018 by

Sure, I was still the same but my face was starting to look smudged in those new photos where I looked older. The forehead exposed, the jaw gone slack, the eyes hollowed out and the skin, less color to it. … Continue reading →

Posted in humor, Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 17 Comments
Posted on November 22, 2018 by

November 22, 2018 (Thanksgiving). I went back in time to the chauffeur’s flat, that place we stayed in a remote corner of Scotland one Thanksgiving, unlike any other. Near some small, port town on the coast by the ferries over … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments