I’m immersed in a deep wooden tub touted to be over 100 years old. Staring down at me with come-hither smoldering eyes and his signature sexy sneer, is Elvis Presley. I too, stare down at my naked body cradled in cloudy brine water and fight a desire to cover myself with the minuscule white square of washcloth I’m gripping…
My German cousin, Thomas stares at me, mouth opening and closing silently as he organizes English words in his head, “You are quite unusual. I think you live comfortably with two feet firmly hovering over two continents,” he finally ventures…
Three years ago I fell in love with Rebecca Solnit. It was at the start of my re-decision to become a writer. A bibliophile with a BA in English and high hopes to make my mark as a writer, I had allowed myself, many years ago…
KookooKOOroo! KookooKOOroo! KOOKOOKOOROO! I wander from the kitchen through the open doors to the front landing. The insistent crowing comes again and now I see the proud cockerel as he struts into view inside the makeshift coop on the old town wall…
Every day that I don’t write is a wasted one. There’s writing and there’s everything else. This creates a spiritual conflict. Let me explain. I am a student of Buddhism now for four years. I call myself a student because I have yet to step over any definitive line that allows me to call myself…
Occasional thoughts on just about anything.