So I while I was on the toilet, I was thinking about how sometimes women express irritation about the toilet seat getting left up ( Read more... )

Furthermore:

Wales Welcomes Cara Bertron!

Cara, we're all glad you could make it out.

I.

I keep on writing kind of anxious poems

Because I’m in an anxious, fucked-up place.

But there’s this book from Cody’s shrink, at home

Where every day, he writes a sign of grace.

So here’s a record of the happiness

That sometimes falls and covers me like ash.

Would you have guessed your body’s on that list?

Your breasts behind your elbows between laps ( Read more... )

So last week I was commissioned to write an article about super-bowl winning quarterbacks speak from the grave, and so I called up Bart Starr, and he agreed to meet me at Harry's Roadhouse, for drinks and reminisces ( Read more... )

 I'm sure I've mentioned this before, because it's an inconsistency I think about a lot, but  it's worth noting again. Jim Harrison once said that the bathroom was the only place where you were really in control of your life. Howere, in the novella "Revenge," a character (who has it coming) is stabbed to death while using the urinal ( Read more... )

So the other night, some joker tried to rob me. I was walking home from some friends' house a little late and all of the sudden this guy was like "Oh no you aren't!" with his hand on my chest and wanting me to give him all of my things in Spanish. My strategy here, which I plan on employing in the states as well, is to not understand things which ( Read more... )

Two items of business ( Read more... )

Well, we´ve been a while across the border. The books I took:

-The Sounds of Poetry, by Robert Pinsky (Man, this was a pretty nice choice.)
-The Elements of Style, by Strunk and White (everybody made fun of me for this one, but it has by far been the most-read. I mean, what was I thinking with King Lear?
-King Lear, by Shakespeare (Seriously. See ( Read more... )

Well, I'm sitting in a motel ten minutes from the
border of Mexico, getting ready to cross. A brief
excursion into Matamoros last night showed me what I
probably already should have known: I don't really
speak Spanish. My dad, who does, took care of most of
our business.

It's a little early in the morning to go on about
crossing today for good (for a ( Read more... )

Raymond informs me that a friend he has on television fell asleep with a grill in his mouth. My condolences, son.