At Least They're Committed

Not long before Dante was born, a woman told me the story of how her father hadn’t lived long enough to meet his grandson — she was pregnant when he died — and she was heartbroken. But then, she said, as the son grew, he would point to the ceiling, down the hall or into… Read more

I was nearly 10 in 1971 when we packed up the 1969 Dodge Polara with summer clothes and a gerbil whose name I don’t recall as the Gray Family of Five set out from Ann Arbor, Michigan, to Grand Junction, Colorado. I remember singing Donny Osmond songs until my mom and dad had finally had… Read more

Edison’s Black Dahlia has given me a mission. An important mission that I shall use this blog and all of my positive energy to fulfill: Writing the family ghost stories for Dublin. Fun! But where do I begin? I was thinking I should maybe start where it started for me: 3369 Beaumont in Ann Arbor,… Read more

I lost power. I realized after a tarot-card reading yesterday (the second in my life) that what I mistook for being content was allowing my power to wane. All my raging and teeth-grinding on this blog for all those years wasn’t simply angst. It was building and exerting my energy. I was using that energy… Read more

Between rib-kicking laughter and girlish giggling, Ellen on Sunday morning told me I really must go see the doctor about the deformity that has developed along my left hip, slightly above and behind the scar. “It sticks out like sausage in a man’s pants that has woefully lost its way,” I told her on the phone. The picture… Read more

Ah, the smell of bacon frying, the hiss of it, the pop and the pain of the grease burning my flesh. Yeah. Well, it’s been a pleasant *snarl* couple of days. But they’re over. I messed up, I shouldn’t have said that — especially since it could be construed as me passing judgement and I wasn’t… Read more