January 15, 2017

You can't see me but I am in the morning.  This section of the day, that small in-between sliver before the day cracks around me and what I believe could be possible shrinks and pulls back.  I love this part.  It feels like mine.

January 03, 2017


Kombucha. What is that shit? My 2017 resolution is to not drink any Kombucha. Doing pretty good so far.

I stayed out late on Friday and now I’m sick. Well, to be clear, I ate a Moons Over My Hammy at Denny’s at 2:25 am and then walked about a mile home in ‘almost raining weather’ because when you’re still probably drunk and home seems too close to call an Uber, you decide to walk even though you’re wearing heels. Do you know how fun it is to order a “Moons Over My Hammy” at Denny’s? So fun. The overnight wait staff at Denny’s look like hostages.  Anyway, I walked home in the cold without a jacket and eventually I became barefoot on the cold wet pavement. So, my sick could have something to do with that. 

Needless to say, I pretty much skipped New Year’s Eve. Was in bed by 11:00.  Go me.

I watched a lot of movies this weekend. Binge watched The OA. Wtf with the ending? Still debating what happened. KNEW the movements were choreographed by the Sia guy even before I looked it up.  KNEW IT.

This was going to be a better blog post, I swear. I don’t know what happened. Oh well. At least I blogged.  That’s a start.

December 23, 2016


Hi Casey,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in so long. I’ve been running and running since I got back from P.S. and I haven’t really stopped. Ow, my legs.  How was your Thanksgiving? I had Steaksgiving.  There was lots of meat. Did I tell you this already?  I don’t know. I’m old and befuddled. How’s T.F.P. coming? (avoiding releasing any spoilers)  I’m feeling good about what I’m doing with M. I have some goals. I feel I am working towards meeting them. Maybe 2017 will be the year I finish my novel. AGAIN. No. It WILL be the year I finish my novel.  AND sell it. MOTHERFUCKER.

I’m trying to figure out if all this fat on my stomach is a baby or not. I squeeze it and it seems pretty solidly fat.  No room for an infant.  Time will tell, I guess.  It could be that I’m just waiting around to discover I’m simply overweight.  I guess I will ‘do better’ with my body starting soon. New year, new beginnings, and what not.  Cliché, but hey.

Well, it’s the end times of a not great year now, isn’t it?  Your marriage was a bright spot.  One good thing. That was this year, right?  Seems so long ago.  Me and Fred Armisen hanging out on a plane.  Good times.

Speaking of good times, there was a cross-eyed bartender the other night.  Friendly enough but we didn’t know where to look at him.  Then there were butterflies all over the ceiling and upside down red Christmas trees.  We sat under those trees and ordered gin drinks.  And ordered gin drinks.  Lots of drinks.  There was an influx of gorgeous human beings and the magnification of how we didn’t belong among them. Me in my Drake “Hotline Bling” Christmas sweatshirt and jeans.  But you best believe that when the DJ played Hotline Bling that we stood up and danced at our dinner table and when he mixed in Souljah Boy at the end, well, let’s just say the teens would’ve laughed at my attempts.  The drinks carried on until we were debating if we should go to a dance club or a strip club which was my cue to know that it was probably time to call an Uber and I sort of did that. It was a very good time.

As I said, the new year approacheth and it means I have to look at where I’ve been and where I am and where I’m going and it’s not fun to look there.  But I am. I have to.  My mom said she might volunteer to pet cats at a local shelter a few times a month in the new year.  This is a side of my mom I wasn’t expecting.  I thought she was more the ‘fuck cats’ kind of person.  I guess even those we’ve known our entire lives can surprise us.  I hope I can do the same.

Oh, I want to publicly state that I want to try to blog more in the coming year. Even if it’s just one paragraph a week.  Seems attainable.  We’ll see…

Anyway. I miss you and Josh.  I wish you cement hugs, ample pies and music that unwinds the knots in you.  I’ve refallen in love with 70’s soft rock….“Yacht Rock” if you will.  I find myself knowing all the words and it comforts me and brings a quiet peace.  I hope you can find something similar whenever you need it.

Love and miss you. 


September 10, 2016


Hey God,

Sorry so disrespectful on the salutation, but I have a bone to pick with you. I've been putting up with this menstruation nonsense for way too long and it got me thinking on how you FUCKED US WOMEN OVER on this shit!  I mean, I've been bleeding for about three decades, every month for 5-7 days....OUT OF MY VAGINA...mind you!  That's no joke. Do you know how many pairs of panties that have been ruined due to this 'monthly gift' you gave to us?  Well, I don't have an exact number but I feel you owe me at least $4,000.  BUT THAT'S NEITHER HERE NOR THERE!  What I want to do right now is request a CHANGE ORDER on how you construct our female reproductive organal system.

Here's what needs to go down:

You've got this shit all fucking backwards.  It makes me think you hate women. I don't like to believe this but after the period revelation I had this week now I think maybe it's true.  The way you need to make periods is to UNMAKE THE FUCKING PERIODS!  There is NO NEED for us to have to shed our uterine fucking lining for seven days!  What you need to start instituting during your 'creational process' for every female that is scheduled to be born from heretofore on, is to REVERSE THIS SHIT!

Yes, an egg will come down once a month.  But...get this...there is no cushy, bloody uterine lining waiting to receive it.  It's just all "dry creekbed" down there.  The egg sits around waiting for a sperm.  Just chilling out as norm.  But when Mr. Wonderful doesn't show up after a few...the egg just gets peed out or whatever.  Bye Bye egg!  Just floats away into the toilet or bush on a river of urine.  BUUUTTTT.....if Mr. Wonderful DOES show up.....that's when...via hormonal changes due to fertilization kicking in....the body produces all that bloody uterine lining to house the now fertilized egg.  THE BLOODY MESS ONLY NEEDS TO SHOW UP AFTER THE EGG IS FERTILIZED!!! COME ON!!! THIS IS SO OBVIOUS! ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A FIFTH GRADER?!?!?!

Sorry. Sorry... It's just...the solution is so obvious and so easy, it's like, maybe you did that shit on purpose or something to keep us from fucking a lot during our periods or something.  I don't know. Maybe you have stock in the sanitary products companies or something. All I'm asking is you change up evolution for this one tiny adjustment. You'll gain a LOT of female followers if you do. No joke. You'll probably even get that blue checkmark on Twitter you've always wanted.

It's obviously too late for me.  I make this request for all the girls of the future who like clean panties.

My apologies for all the disrespect and swears. But, YOU try bleeding for all this time and not be grumpy.


p.s. If you can put in a good word to some major publishers about my novel, that would be great. Thanks.

August 20, 2016

Everything I Don't Write Is Full of So Much I Can't Say

I am addicted to cold brew coffee.

I am not wearing this like a badge. I’m just telling you what has recently developed in my life. 

The funny thing is, I had my first cold brew last week and haven’t stopped since.  Cold brew coffee and half n half, no sweetener.  It’s bomb.  So much so, that three days this week I had TWO of them in one day.  Not a good idea, but it was fun while it was happening.  It’s like drugs without drugs. (   I’ve been needing drugs lately.) I even bought a cheap cold-brew ‘system’ which is basically a pitcher with a coffee filter dropped into the middle of it.  I made it for the first time last night. Poured it into my gullet this morning.  So good.

I think this is better than the vodka addiction I usually have.  So, trading up…. (?)

I look forward to weekends now.  I mean, I guess I always did, but now it’s a big red balloon.  It fills and rises first thing Monday morning; what can I do this weekend that will make me have something to look forward to?  What sort of distraction can I occupy myself with?  What can I do that will fill this gaping hole?  

Thoughts of this; how I fill my weekdays.  It’s a sport.

At first, it was a calming.  A clapping of sandals and a settling of dust motes through sunlight.  A deep breath, released.  And now.  Now it is oozing and raw.  A hole to put stones inside.

I’ve been re-reading Stephen King’s (:::sign of the cross, kiss fingers, nod up to sky:::::)  Dark Tower series. I wanted to re-read it before the movie came out, refresh my memory.  It’s been at least 12 years since I read the last book in the series (and CRIED knowing it was over) and at least 33 years since I opened up the first book.  It’s been great being able to binge-read them instead of waiting YEARS in between each release.

I’ve rediscovered my heart in these books.  How much the thrill of the quest claims me.  I’ve recognized parts of my (YET FUCKING UNSOLD) novel in these books.  Realizing how deeply this story rooted itself in me, how I carried it into adulthood and seeped it out into my own story. 

I’m in the middle of book 4, Wizard and Glass, and I’m loving it. All of it.  Can wait for the next book and the next and the next.

Meanwhile, all the ‘current’ books I want to read are stacking up in a TOWER on my bedside table.  I will get to them eventually.  For now, I’m on Roland’s quest, trying to hold on to the face of my father.

Here’s what you need to know: a)  I am, as you have seen, writing again, albeit tiny. It’s millimeters more than I had been.  I call it victory.  An unblemishing. I am starting to see and feel the shine.  (and oh how that feels!) b)  I am also eating properly.  Making smallest progress but progress nonetheless.  It’s, finally, exciting.  Something that is not a prison anymore.  I’m so tired of all my prisons it’s nice to be (so far) free of one of them. c) I am letting myself hate this.  Letting myself feel how shitty this is.  Making myself ask myself how long I want to endure this prison. Self-flagellation   d) I am watching the Olympics instead of my regular shows.  I like witnessing history. I like bearing witness to the life dreams of others becoming reality. Watching them cry with ultimate joy.  It’s beautiful.  e) I’m doing my best to live as half which is completely contrary to how it is supposed to be.

August 17, 2016

Dark Fucking Wizard

I wrote a thing for DFW and here it is

August 08, 2016

Looking For Meaning In Quiet Moments

There’s a squirrel that has been terrorizing my dogs for the past few years. I’m assuming it’s the same squirrel but maybe it’s different squirrels but whatever the case, they all do the same thing;  run along my back fence over to the telephone pole and while my dogs bark at them.  Typically, after the squirrel hits the pole, they stay there, upside down, just out of reach of the dog until they drive the dog sufficiently crazy and then they will just run up the pole and down the wire to probably terrorize the next backyard pooch.

(I say ‘dogs’ but really I mean ‘dog’.  But one dog dies, I get another dog, squirrel continues terrorizing.)

I was outside reading over the weekend and here comes the squirrel.  I eyeball it and it ignores me, runs along my fence going west, up the pole, over the wire on his little squirrely way.

About 15 minutes later I see him scrambling back but this time he has a huge dark ‘rock’ in his mouth. I was like, wtf.  That can’t be a rock.  How is he holding a rock in his mouth?  I watched him get closer.  He stops and takes a breather on the telephone pole and I see it’s not a rock but a BABY SQUIRREL!!!  My dog teasing squirrel is a MOM squirrel!

She rests for a bit and then heads down the pole to the fence and scampers past me with her baby in her mouth.  It was a really cool moment.  Like, me and nature and that’s all.  I figured she was just moving her nest for whatever real estate reasons squirrels have.

About 20 minutes goes by and here she comes again, back down the fence, up the pole, across the wire.  I wondered if she would come back with another one and about 15 minutes later, she did!

Across the wire, a short pole rest, down the pole, across the fence to who knows where.  So cute.  The little baby just curled up, hanging from his mom’s mouth.

Then, she comes back again.  I again wondered if she’d come back with another baby.  After a while she did.  But this time my dog had joined me. 

She took her pole rest and headed down to my back fence.  But as soon as her feet hit the back fence, my dog perked up and noticed his nemesis sitting on ‘his’ back fence. 

The squirrel noticed him noticing and froze. They sat there that way for a moment and I waited to see what would happen.

As if a gun went off they both took off running at the same time.  The squirrel ran across the fence to the point where it runs behind the house and I can’t see it anymore.  My dog does too. But as soon as they disappear I hear a tiny SCREE! SCREE! SCREE! type of crying noise and I was like OH FUCK SHE DROPPED IT AND MY DOG IS EATING IT OMGOMGOMG!!!! So I jumped out of my seat and ran around the house and ….nothing. 

My dog was there looking like he lost and I followed the SCREE SCREE noise and saw the squirrel running down my neighbor’s fence and then up into a giant palm tree.  The new home.

As I stood there, peering through the slatted fence, I noticed my neighbor standing in his back window, also watching the squirrel.  He didn’t see me.  But there we were standing quietly watching this squirrel transfer her babies into the palm tree. 

It was a nothing moment but yet it felt like something.  I’m not sure why.

I walked back to my book and thought about the SCREE SCREE sounds and figured that when mommy squirrel saw my dog coming she bit down harder than she wanted to.  Bit down into her baby so she could run as fast as possible in order to save them both.  Her baby screaming in her mouth as she ran for their lives. She caused her baby pain so they both could make it to safety.  A necessary lesser of two evils.  

A way to survive.

August 04, 2016

Writing Like a "Normal Person"

Yesterday I had a “work lunch” in a restaurant like a normal person.  I ordered a Cobb Salad but this was a ‘fancy style’ one and it had steak and balsamic vinaigrette. Balsamic vinaigrette seems wrong to put on a Cobb salad so I decided to swap it out for Bleu Cheese dressing so when the lady took my order I said, ‘Oh, and can I have a side of Bleu cheese please?”  She said yes and I felt happy about my forthcoming lunch and continued talking with my boss and coworkers like a normal person.

My salad came and it looked nice.  Then the lady set down a little silver container of Bleu cheese crumbles.  Hmph, I thought, staring at the little silver container of Bleu cheese crumbles while the rest of the plates were placed on the table.  It was then I realized that I hadn’t quite made myself clear when asking for a side of “Bleu Cheese”.  In my head, I felt I’d implied the dressing ‘swap’ from Balsamic vinaigrette to Bleu cheese but if I put myself on the receiving end of our exchange, I realized that I’m just a customer who ordered a salad that already came with bleu cheese who then asked for even MORE bleu cheese.  Like, I was a person who was ‘crazy for bleu cheese’.  Maybe even a ‘bleu cheese fanatic’.  The lady probably gets crazier food requests so she didn’t bat an eyelash or even question my request for a ‘side of bleu cheese’ for a salad that already had bleu cheese on it. 

My mistake, leaving out the key word, “dressing.” 

So, I ate my balsamic vinaigretted Cobb Salad like a normal person.  The small, silver container of Bleu cheese sitting alongside my plate, silently mocking me.

The salad was okay with the balsamic vinaigrette, but the entire time I knew how much awesomer it would’ve been with the Bleu cheese.

I should’ve just asked for a side of Ranch and she would’ve immediately have been clear, because….what would she’d have served me ‘by mistake’? A small, western replica of a ranch??! No. She would’ve understood I meant ‘dressing,’ Like a normal person.

After we paid and left the table, I wondered what the lady would think when she found the small, silver container of Bleu cheese still full, untouched, sitting beside my empty plate.  A ‘Blue cheese nut’ who orders a side of Bleu cheese and just lets it sit there, uneaten.  She probably thought I had some sort of ‘power complex’, ordering sides of wacky shit just because I could.  I don’t know.  But I still am wondering what she wondered back about me, a ‘normal’ person.