If reality TV were really reality, every show would be like surveillance tape. Each episode would be 24 hours of people biting … More
Maybe it was the trash. How many rotting meats or open diapers had Georgie and I, insomnia-weary and carb-loaded, tossed into the trash without a thought of wrapping it?
One of the benefits of being broke is that I no longer have to puzzle over whether or not to … More
There was also the remarkable quiet, such that if a Maltese barked softly at one side of the neighborhood, it would wake up the leathery middle-aged divorcee sunning at the community pool on the other.
I have had many dark moments while writing. But this one was probably the worst. Before I moved to St. … More