Once a bizarre fiefdom of gangsters.
Perhaps there’s no uniform solution to treating addiction.
The car trip was just my daily experience but intensified, and this experience has remained my default ever since.
My wife can do it, but I can’t, and I’m jealous.
I’m glad the porn’s gone from Times Square.
Finding the time to write is a constant challenge.
It was important that the people treating her know what her life was like outside that hospital.
A story about a legendary coach and his lovelorn lass.
Reviewing NYC’s infrastructure problems.
Reflections on social history.
A short story about blood, death, mice, and small feet.
Stress, exhaustion, and healing at the Creating Change conference.
Arte Povera at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Paleocon Diary (#159)
Searching for love with the speed of life in our cosmic loneliness.
A beautiful flower’s Easter nightmare.
A few minutes in the life of a debt collector.
These characters are alive in the movies when adults aren’t watching.
My brother taught me sometime before I was nine.
Paleocon Diary (#158)
The action heats up in Oliver Bateman’s ever-expanding “hot take-verse.”
Writing and recording poems every week for a newborn daughter.
Dad was a humble giant, at least to his five sons.
I’m an old cowhand.
As a teenager, I was a walking zit.
The brilliant Absolut Vodka advertising hustle of the late-1980s.
I don’t scream for ice cream.
American social polarization is exaggerated.
Ninety-Nine percent of baseball fans don’t care if a free agent inks deal for $100 or $140 million.
Black eyes are going around like the flu.