The only difference between a madman and myself is that I am not mad.”
— Salvador Dali
Category: Life
Each moment is different. Here are some of mine.
Pithyism #$$$
IN THE ABSENCE OF A national social-service corps, and for proper character-building, everyone should work in retail sales for a year. (Especially during the holiday rush.)
Pithyism #2=1
TRUE LOVE IS NOT AN emotion — it’s a dedicated series of related actions.
On “Secret Fame”
IN ANY HUMAN AFFINITY GROUP, of whatever size, there are always one or two people whom “everybody knows” — be it for their work, skills or sheer ubiquity. This is the concept of Secret Fame: celebrities of the specialty worlds…
On Homo relator (w/ Special Guest Star John Wheeler)
IT TOOK A WEIRD BOUT of synchronistic weather to illustrate for me how our species loves to tell stories. First, you need to know about Mugwort Manor. It was a Victorian apartment near the corner of San Francisco’s Fulton and…
Allegiance Redux
A FEW YEARS AGO, I revised the Pledge of Allegiance — instead of stating support for a piece of cloth, it celebrates what that cloth stands for. In today’s hyper-partisan political and cultural climate, it’s important to be both precise…
365 Names (sort of): The Fragility
“THIS IS WHY SOME PEOPLE drink,” I told my friend, provoking him into loud laughter. We were talking about THE FRAGILITY: that immediate realization of the tenuousness of life, and its property of drastically changing in a cold heartbeat through…
Open Invitation
THERE MAY BE NO QUICKER way to evoke reverent awe than by looking through a telescope at the night’s rich bounty. I was 13 when I first trained a small refractor, a gift from my parents, on the planet Saturn.…
Street Light (Fourth Indigent Sketch)
HE WAS A FLORID, BEEFY man in his mid-to-late 30s, perched on a high concrete bench in San Francisco’s lunchtime-crowded Justin Herman Plaza, and wearing a grey beltless trenchcoat tightly buttoned up to his thick neck. Every minute or so…
Why I Love: Grocery Shopping
IT’S THE ANTICIPATORY PROCESS OF scrawling ingredients on a shopping list. It’s the simple pleasure of browsing a well-stocked and -stacked produce display. It’s the ritual of interacting with the people at the butcher/fish/cheese counters. It’s the Dad-inspired satisfaction of…
Neither Rain Nor Snow Nor Sudden Car Door
BOMBING STEEPLY DOWNHILL ON SAN Francisco’s pedestrian-thick California Street while screaming “No brakes!” was just another day in my brief life as a late-1980s bike messenger. I had gotten into “the life” by happy accident. Having been fired from a…
How Many Dead Friends Are There?
AT LEAST ONCE OR TWICE a week The Metaphorager‘s access logs reveal that someone is reading “Letter to a Dead Friend,” a 2010 paean to my still-dear psychic twin James “Sputnik” Gjerde. At this writing (March 2019), there have been…