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Category: Writings

  • Unkempt words

    I wander in this forest of words. I seek. I squander. I unleash. These are my words: strong, guileless, unkempt, earnest. Sometimes they are the meaning of life; other times, the scrapheap. They can be the way forward or the exquisite distraction. Just so much hot air, the elixir of love or the blood of…

  • Perhaps

    ,

    A life is an endless chain of perhaps. Perhaps — had I followed that scent down the dark alley — I would have met the primordial seductress and we would have wrestled lovingly amid the garbage cans and refuse until our bodies were shrunken vestiges of their former selves. Perhaps I would have passed through…

  • Storm gifts

    On the waterfront here, every storm is cause for a party. Most of the adults I spoke to can remember the morning when, following several days of storms that kept all the fishermen in port, the sun broke through revealing a morning that looked like God’s first: all splendor and reflections and bathed in a…

  • A sense of impending peace

    Los Angeles, California – On the edge of this city of bright lights, the metropolis disintegrates and fizzles into grains of sand carried away by small waves. We are perched in a house of timber and glass, a precarious construction that looks out into the void. Comfort is found in friends, in the search for…

  • Nomads of the Night

    The phantom kisses awaken me in the night. Troubled spirits are nomads that scour the world in search of an answer they cannot find. They gather pieces and crumbs but never find the complete answer. Is it that they ask questions no one dares to ask or is it that they cannot accept the answers…

  • The experimental life

    The words came pounding at his door like ruffian bill collectors. He had turned them away so often that this time he decided to let them in. He took his thrashing equanimously: after all, the thrashing was less of a sacrifice than the years he had lost putting it off. The blows were filled with…

  • Words that caress. Eyes that devour.

    He was an old man now, but his eyes shone brightly when he spoke of women. The fire was alive and he had a strength and fierceness about him that belied his age, as if he had dined on some mysterious potion that kept the soul wild and strong and dangerous, even as his body…

  • The Making of a Porn Star

    There is the navel that must be licked and the neck that must be kissed. First it is a stroke here, then a caress there. The camera clicks away and while the photographer says softly “do this” and “do that,” we enfold and unfold. Soon it is as if the photographer has faded away, such…

  • Raring to go

    I am raring to go on this 2010 thing. I got my share of bruises in 2009. It wasn’t pretty — but bruises teach you a lot and I’m sure that in 2010 I’ll have a chance to put those lessons to work for me. It was perhaps the best year and the worst year…