Miscellaneous Fiction

Musings on why I decided to undertake a writing project about a local homeless guy. Then Came Poppy It was a misunderstanding that started him screaming at me. From the perspective of four year’s distance our problems started as a result of his antagonistic feelings toward another acquaintance of... Sign in to see full entry.

One of my more interesting (I think) dreams... In this dream I was a dog. All the other ‘people’ were dogs too. At the beginning of the dream I was looking down at a maze of yards. These yards were in rows, and had fences around them. Some of the fences were old, some new. Some were made of wire and... Sign in to see full entry.

Why Not Squeaky Voices? Ok, now everyone will know for sure that I am a grade-A, certifiable curmudgeon. But it’s time to take the gloves off. No more Ms. Nice Gal. It’s a lovely afternoon, and my Lurcher, Grace and I are walking to the local market. Everybody knows Grace. They know me too, but a... Sign in to see full entry.

The Sad Tale of the Found Records In which letter I shall strive to aquaint you with the deplorable scene which ensued when the aforementioned records were noticed in my room by a mutual aquaintance, not to say friend, of ours. After the delightful meal which you shared with me this afternoon to... Sign in to see full entry.

Journal entry from 2007 So I wake up, get up and go to the store. They had lobster tails. They were $30.00 a pound. I hemmed and hawed, and finally asked Scott to weigh one for me. It was half a pound. “Oh well,” I thought. “You only live once.” (Or at least you only live this life once – thank God)... Sign in to see full entry.

Doggie Bag In my youth I supplemented my living as a silk-screen printer with the occasional art commission. One such commission consisted of doing a single India-ink drawing of a coyote femur. The illustration was to appear in the thesis of a young man who was doing his residency, (or whatever you... Sign in to see full entry.

OK, this is totally not fiction, it's a transcript of an internet dialog with a person who shall remain nameless unless they happen to see this and decide to declare themselves... I can't deal with yet another blog, and I don't have any short fiction at the moment for this one. THought you all might... Sign in to see full entry.

Chapter l: The Path through the Forest Tall bamboo arches over the trail through a comer of Nagarhole Park. Three figures make their way along in the green light filtering through the dense foliage overhead. Myriad birds and insects formed a rackety, sawing chorus. There is a man, a woman and a... Sign in to see full entry.

Prologue The forest is the lair of death. On a windless morning a village crouches nearby, lapped round by a safe zone of treeless fields. But the forest is near. Its tangled chaos of green conceals shrieking peafowl and clever-handed monkeys. Deer, silent as fog, slip between the shadowed stems of... Sign in to see full entry.

Lucille Every so often I am compelled to tell a story from a part of my past that not everyone can appreciate. I usually begin, "Back when I was a shiftless hippie..." …my lover Richard and I lived in a dreadful single apartment in a huge old building across the street from the Van Ness entrance to... Sign in to see full entry.