At the beginning of Spring I went puddle-jumping. I don’t mean that I took several short flights on small aircraft. I mean I went around jumping, with my feet, in puddles of water. Gosh, what joy. The air was not crisp. It may have felt crisp to someone coming from humid high temps, but to… More Poop-Soup Throne – A short story
“I’ve never been to San Francisco.” Beth stands awkwardly on the steps outside her apartment, a fourth floor walk-up somewhere in Manhattan that she shares with three other girls and a guy but still pays too much in rent, looking kind of downward and sidelong at the homeless man asking her to elope to the… More BDSM – A short story
I started reading some David Foster Wallace the other day – a book of short stories. I finished the first story. It was good, but I don’t know how to bring it up in conversation. Outside, the trees do not have leaves. I only counted three clouds in the sky. A dog barked this morning.… More Some Sort of Pine – A short story
I started reading some David Foster Wallace the other day – a book of short stories. I finished the first story. It was good, but I don’t know how to bring it up in conversation. Outside, the trees do not have leaves. I only counted three clouds in the sky. A dog barked this morning.… More Some Sort of Pine – A short story