We're not that different, you and I. Controlled the way we are by the tastes that cross our lips, the scents that catch our noses. We howl and bark when the people we love are taken away. We're overcome by the simplest of needs. We eat our food too fast. And we always pull on our leashes. Because, well...fuck you is why.

Go to post

There is a fountain in the hotel. Sometimes I sit on the stone ledge and toss pennies into it. And I think that if I believed in wishes, I'd make one. But mainly I just like the action of tossing the pennies and watching the water ripple as each one hits the surface and sinks. The little plunk, plunk, plunk of it. The way I can cause this series of events to unfold. And the slight variations from one throw to the next. The hopeful anticipation it brings: that this time I will see something different.

Go to post

We are smoking cigarettes on the front porch. It's 25 degrees and it's hard to tell our breath from the smoke. I say: "The thing is, that's what I used to do. Write about me. About us."

Go to post

The bar has become crowded. There's a woman sitting alone behind you wearing a dark green hoodie. Her chair is close to yours. Too close. It's weird. Maybe she's listening to us. You sip your beer, then you apply some lip gloss. You're not eating your veggie burger because that last cigarette put your stomach off. I say: "I can imagine that there are people who would pay money to read what I write. "

Go to post

It's time I come clean: It's not working, this not blogging thing. In fact it's having the reverse effect. I'm actually writing less than I was before. So I've started sneaking in posts here and there. And I've tried to pretend like they don't count because mostly they've been fictional. But they do. They count.

Go to post

More than any of us, Honey loves when Chubby visits. They are really in love these two. They play non-stop. And kiss and lick. In the morning, they are at their most crazy. They roll on the bedroom floor and make groaning noises like little monsters. And so I get up with them and we go outside in the cool dawn air which feels more and more like spring these days, thank God. And they begin their morning running and playing and sniffing and pooping. And I stand there for a moment in that silence specked with bird chirps and woodpecker knocks. And eventually I go back inside and make coffee and watch them run around from the window. And I like to stand there and imagine how these interactions go.

Go to post

How I had a gun pulled on me by my neighbor is, I was walking Honey down a quiet, safe street in my quiet, safe neighborhood. And, okay, I can already hear your cries of protest: oh god, Dave, you had that shit coming, brother. I know, I know. But just hear me out, okay?

Go to post