To my faithful readers:
This business of not posting every day has its downside. I have this feeling of anxiety hanging around me, as if I had chopped up mushrooms and onions, went to answer the phone, and discovered myself in a long conversation with someone I could not escape but did not wish to speak to. In other words, let’s get the steak on the grill!
On the progress front, I have established the provisional title, chapter set up and Continue reading
He had several theories about why he couldn’t talk to women:
he could not look one in the eye
without thinking she could read his mind
and would be totally scandalized;
women talk face-to-face,
and men talk side-by-side;
the beauty of women
made his eyes water so he couldn’t see;
women thought so fast Continue reading
I nibble the tips of my thumbs; the knuckles of my interlocked fingers
are out of focus, doubled over each other. The scent of my hands,
taste of my thumb tips reminds me of puffed wheat and cool milk
in the morning when I was a kid. I tip my still-interlaced hands away,
tip them palms-up, look down into the cup they form, and remember
spring water illuminating my palms where my interlocked fingers looked like
gears intermeshed, ready to spin the water Continue reading
