Browsing category blogging

he b huntin


It’s huntin season in the mountains and my brother is going in for the kill. He sent me a Christmas card. A photo of him and a big horned deer, in mid field-dress. Captioned with the seasonal greeting: ‘Ohio Bow Kill. 2005.’ I blame Pa. Pa’s a squirrel man. Least he used to be. “Back

the cousins are a mess


The cousins are a mess. Least thats what my Aunt says. One keeps walking around the house saying ‘breasteseses’ and knocking people out. She’s a fighter and you better believe it. She use to have this really guttural voice, then she got her ears unstopped. People think shes softened up because now she sounds like

griswold and all


Spangles, bangles and sparkles. All kinds of gold. The desk-ridden jammed into their a-little-something-leather and alotta-something-gauche. Offices begin to spill into the streets at lunch time. To make merry and drink sherry (and whatever else the free bar has to offer) until the wee morning hours. I left my own a bit later. Sometime after

this week i’ll…


I’ll dream in columns and construction law this week. I’ll walk through European markets full of goulash and gingerbread men. I’ll spend five hours at Starbucks drinking green tea and envying sausage and bean sandwiches, and six hours at the gym. I’ll run for the train, get all sweaty and not stop to buy a

a short order cook named april


I use to spend my summers in the John Rylands Library writing (about something else) or networking with friends from Casablanca and Russia (get in good, spend a holiday abroad). Some days I’d go to the beach. Others I’d just end up at O’Neills with one of those designer drinks that taste like fermented Kool-Aid

wild pigs and standing room only


You’ll go under if you’re not careful. No one will care that you’ve fallen beneath the train, as long as they’re all sardined packed and on their way home. They’ll write about you in the papers the next day, and wonder how you got down there. They’ll call it suicide. A yobbing. Maybe just too

what i want for christmas by buffy m holt


My 4 year old niece phoned me the other day from America. Told me she spoke to Santa on the phone – a colourful cousin with a southern drawl. He was bringing her a Cinderella Magical Talking Vanity (If it tells you you’re gorgeous…i’ll take two please.) Santa hasn’t phoned me yet. But when he

stuck in lodi again


Reggie’s on day 86 of nothing special. He’s stuck in Lodi again. I’m on day 3 of the Michael Thurmond 6 Week Body Makeover. You know the Bicep Buddhist on Extreme Makeover who tries to get at what the lipo didn’t? Rumour on the fat boards is this miracle makeover knocks 30 pounds off in

drawing characters


Im drawing characters at the moment. Another little procrastination trick I’ve learned. I have several hundred to choose from. For years I’ve been in the habit of people watching. I carry my notebook everywhere. Sketch what I see. With words instead of lines. The man who wears the dirty Octoberfest tshirt to let everyone know

he’s a lady you see


It was Bluefield. What did queens do in Bluefield? Sit at home and wish they were some where else. Every night but Thursday. I was working at a grocery store in West Virginia when I saw my first drag queen. It was after midnight and she sloshed through the door in stripper heels and gold