"Are you killing time?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "and I've got the bar tab to prove it." "Would you like some company?" She sat down on the stool to my right without waiting for an answer. She was not what you would call a pretty woman, but sitting in the bar at O'Hare, two… Continue reading Why writers shouldn’t drink (a re-post of sorts)
I am not a grammar Nazi, but I will admit to a certain fondness for a well-parsed sentence. (I will also tell you that in the first draft of this post, I referred to a fondness for a well-arsed sentence, but that is another topic for another day). You can abuse the rules of grammar,… Continue reading Would you rather be well-parsed or well-arsed?
I got the dead bodies out of the bathtub. Don't ask me where they are now. Frankly, some days I make myself sick. (It's a good day here. I hope it is where you are too.)
As a writer, I am fascinated by the way that reality and fiction blend together. It is the subject of an essay by Ben Dolnick, Star-Struck, published in today's New York Times Magazine. Dolnick writes about how Olivia Wilde, at the age of 10, had a crush on him. But what he's mostly writing about is… Continue reading Olivia Wilde, Dashiell Hammett, Abbie Hoffman and the dead bodies in my bathtub
That man of mine, he couldn't find my G-spot with a miner's helmet #34. dinosaur (a re-post just in time for the August Scavenger Hunt)