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Friday comes. Donuts, chums? — Godot, upon arrival Donutland is deserted. And perhaps if Plato had only stopped playing footsies with the shadows and gotten the hell out of the cave, then maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t be in this predicament. But, here I am, predicament’d while the smell of Rheology blows by me. Visions — read more

“Let’s luxuriate, darling,” she whispers. “For the bay tree is blooming.” Who am I to argue? We sit on a blanket. She’s near. Her breath. A kiss of whiskey, a splash of raw red onion. She smells warm. I watch her teal shift shift dangerously in the mild yet strong spring breeze. Her legs and — read more

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Ever notice if you spell bus backwards it’s “sub?” Coincidentally, methinks. — read more

Robert Frost once wrote something seemingly Profound about a Fork in the Road. I can’t for the life of me remember, but if I take the Middle Fork I’ll get to Glasgow before ye. — read more

Putting the Jelly on before the Peanut Butter — read more

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In summary, I basically awoke in Room 12 of the Hotel Infinity somewhere south of a Nondescript Town that looked a lot like Alturas; awoke in a wide bed and alone, save for the empty wine bottle and Chinese Takeout Boxes that, with the ends of chopsticks extruding from one of the boxes, could be — read more