The delirious drug of motherhood. I’m a mother. I don’t get enough sleep. I find myself today in the kind of delirium that poets would seek in absinthe and opium, that I myself would seek in pots of diner coffee. It’s a beautiful day. Perhaps I’ll go for a walk.
Divorced people sure can be bitter about the opposite gender. Divorce ran in the family along with wide hips and a faithful craving for chocolate. From mother to daughter, daughter to son, there passed an eye of watchfulness and an eye of charity. The eye of watchfulness watched the husband, watched the wife; the eye
Death to Ecology! A snippet of fiction. He’d expected the life flashing before his eyes (it was the moment for it) to be his own. Unfortunately, all he saw was the life of a fundamentalist Vegitarian slug from a small G-type star near the Southern Cross constellation; instead of gaining some kind of insight into
The sensitive lover. So (and all underage readers may here avert your eyes), Good Saturday I was happily contemplating a lotta hot sex and a little gumbo when I get this call. “Honey? Do you miiiiind if I bring Joe over?” “You were still planning to get laid, right?” “Yeah…” “Well, bring him over,” I