A Good Day for Women
People tend to think that I'm a misogynist. I don't think that's true. I'm a huge fan of beauty, but somehow it keeps kicking my ass.

The Blonde on the Streetcorner
(title stolen from a David Goodis novel)

Dark Nights in Damp Towns
He was at a restaurant. He wasn't doing much, just sitting. He had thoughts about eating when he first arrived, but those thoughts went away pretty quickly. . .

The Disappearing Blonde
Strange morning. I woke up with the intention of trying to work on a story I had abandoned almost a year ago. Instead, I found myself reading all of the letters I sent to people while I was in Seattle. Odd, it all seems so far away, I can't remember much of it. Was it really that bad? Or was I just really that drunk? I wonder which came first, my decision to dislike Seattle, or Seattle's decision to dislike me? Then I remembered the disappearing blonde. . .

Doomed
And I bellowed at the firmament looks like the rains are here to stay. . .

Familiar Faces
They say that Philadelphia is the largest little town out there. This story proves that to some degree. I've met a lot of people in my time here, and it's inevitable that as time goes by, people from the past get pushed back into the vaults. It can be jarring when they suddenly come lunging out at you. People keep asking me who I'm describing in this, but frankly, if you don't know, you don't need to. One was a close friend, one wasn't, but they've both gone in different directions. I'm sure there will be more moments like these in my life as I get older and the people I used to know re-appear, older, perhaps better, yet somehow foreign.

Gloria
Here's one from the archives…going back to a special time and place when I was getting ready to move to Seattle and had many interesting run-ins with all the women I had been lusting after the years before…There was one lovely young woman in particular whose image had been hounding me…for the record, we'll call her Gloria.

Inspired by a Song
A short story in ten parts.

The Naked Man
If there was ever a holiday season filled with fear and loathing, 2002/2003 was it. In that spirit, here's a heartwarming if slightly melancholy tale of love, loss and the possibility of redemption. Hey that's more than you usually get from me. Count your blessings.

Nickelback
I went back to Seattle recently. The first time since I left there three years ago. I wanted to see some old friends, I wanted to get away, and I wanted to bury some ghosts from years ago. Obviously, anyone I've spoken to while I was there or since I got back knows that I left there on bad terms. More than anything, I needed to remember why I ever went out there, hoping that would give me some insight into why it fell apart for me.

Going out there reminded me of many reasons why I wanted to move there in the first place. But there was something else bothering me. Eventually I remembered that I had decided to move before I had ever chosen a place to move to.

Coming back, I looked up a letter I had written years ago. It's not a letter, really. It's three stories intertwined into one feverish (if I recall, the whole thing was initially written in a pneumonia-driven daze) love story. Looking back upon it, I realize that it tells more about my feelings at the time right before I moved than I would ever want to admit.

In fact, I feel bad for my friend whom I sent it to, since I can't imagine what he must have thought when he read this nightmarish correspondence. It starts with a continuation of a short story of mine which he had read about a group of adventurers, merges into autobiography, and then turns into accounts of the strange dreams I was having around that time. All told, it becomes quite a love story.

The name means nothing, just as nothing in the story means anything. I just liked the sound of it. We'll just look at this as my first attempt at science fiction. . .

Old Movies
I don't know who I am sometimes. I ask people, but they don't know me well enough to answer. . .

Seattle
The first couple of days with Tom in town had been pleasant, if mildly disconcerting. . .

The Woods
My desperate attempts to remain sane while in Seattle took several interesting turns. This was one of my favorites, and I still hope to finish it someday. I had always been a fan of "The Wind In the Willows", and decided I would try my best to write a similar story in terms of having regular characters, as you would in any other story, but animals instead. My version ended up a bit more vulgar, however, but still innocent at heart. Basically I was trying to write a children's story for adults. Enjoy.