My tongue is tied ( Read more... )

What a fun storm we had yesterday! After a morning audition, I came home and cooked up some black-eyed peas and slab bacon and long grain rice, and Colleen and I had official autumn food here. (Note: Autumn food (AKA "Southern Food" served without hog jowl) is best eaten on cloudy days with SNL's THE BEST OF WILL FARRELL. I don't know why this ( Read more... )

I am here to address the issue--maybe not address it, actually, so much as just kind of toss it out there, like those guys who play in over-40 softball leagues. Just lob it in there, you know, over the plate, nice and easy. Nevertheless, there is the issue, and that cannot be denied. You know the issue to which I refer ( Read more... )

Hilary Swank works out at my gym. She's tiny and so, so hot. She always reminded me of that porn star--what's her name?--Taylor Hayes. Think about it: first name, six letters each; last name, five letters. It's so obvious, Hilary (unless you spell it "Hillary," then my whole theory's back to Square One), and, don't worry, I won't tell a soul ( Read more... )

I miss California ( Read more... )

That night in question, Kenny, I was drinking at some pub on Union St. I want to say it was called Meenar's, but I fear it was something even more Irish. O'Meenar's or McMeenar's or Senor Meenar's. Whatever the place called itself didn't help much because I remember driving past the pub in question about a year later and finding it had closed. ( Read more... )

In all stories about adolescence, coming-to-adolescence, or leaving adolesence, there are always these kids with unbelievably phony names, expressly created, no doubt, for the purpose of allegory or symbolism or whathaveyou. Except they exist, these poor bastards, and their destinies are mapped out in the passing down of dad's last name. Glendon ( Read more... )

I remember when "U Can't Touch This" was the #1 Hit Song in the nation, and I sat in my room all afternoon, listening to a version of it that my friend, Eddie Salazar, taped off the radio. Eddie Salazar liked the Raiders, and we all called him "Salad Bar" much to his frustration. He wore big square-framed B. Holly glasses, and his hair was long ( Read more... )

The world is very small, and shrinking all the time. Soon there will be no room left for real people, only for stories told about them by people who weren't there. Then only a map of twisted lines without the stories, and then only names, and then nothing at all.

I've been thinking a lot lately about this summer, this spring, this whole year, in fact, and how it has turned out completely differently than anything I could have predicted when I toasted my friends on New Year's Eve, 2002. There I was, with my Chinese-American girlfriend, drinking champagne on a boat in San Francisco Bay, three days away from ( Read more... )