Category: Writing

My own serious stuff; the craft itself; those who inspire me in it; the art of reading.

Reb Drunkard’s Wisdom

THE MAN WITH THE UNWASHED face was dressed in baggy street-person clothes which seemed to cushion the cold concrete beneath him. He was laying in front of the Carl’s Jr. restaurant in San Francisco’s Justin Hermann Plaza one cool night…

O Hamlet! O Holden!

ONE OF THE SPARE JOYS of bohemian pretention is, and perhaps always has been, writing sad poems in the rain, letting each misty drop efface and blur the tortured scribble; pearls of moisture like the very angels’ tears weeping for…

The Shape Of Time

WHEN I WAS YOUNGER THAN I am now, I used to think Time was arranged in neat little blocks as on the calendar. The “bottom of the month” felt like the bottom of the month, and I delighted in each…

Being Here, Doing This

THE GUY IN THE BACK seat of Cash Cab is heavily into the Neo-Beat Chic (hip snap-gnosis, deprecate gesture): Shirt buttoned horn rimmed open face serious sandwich, And I guarantee he’s wearing although I can’t see them scuffed brown oxfords.…

Fists Against The Posts

One kept thinking there had to be another way of looking at it, of really seeing *I*T*, and kept lamenting that particular brand of consciousness so limited in terms of time, space and perception. Oh, to soar as a school…

Writing News: The Interview

HAVING LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY “DONE this in my sleep(1)” on occasion as ahem an award-winning reporter for the Sonoma Index-Tribune and Sonoma Sun (and freelancer for the Novato Advance, Petaluma Argus-Courier and The Bohemian) and being somewhat-to-greatly rankled by what…