#uncoffeed...

Porn for Writers Come on and take a ride across the border to a place that once was mine Out of focus, out of order, pictures from another time Nobody who was present will forget that perfectly-timed crack of thunder as Dan Navarro wove oral history through the opening bars of We Belong . One of the kids said it out loud: " We belong to the thunder! "  And we laughed; and we did belong, crowded under the patio roof for what became a sing-along. Lowen & Navarro's beloved hit segued into (and I'm not sure why) Steve Miller Band's The Joker , and then something I can't remember because I was overwhelmed by the night and had to pull back into the misty rain. Afterward, I found our hostess Alexandra and thanked her for creating a space where I was comfortable to be what I am, to draw pictures instead of staring at the musician, dance in dark corners. She'll email me, she said, when they have another happening. On the outside turning lighter, s...

Today is the birthday of one of my soulmates.  I say it like that because I never think there's only one, but this one I had the good fortune to meet. We shared 12 years, a home, and many adventures. He was a father to my baby girl twice - first when he took us as family, and then later when she ran away from me as a teenager.  In 1995, he was diagnosed with a slow-growing Astrocytoma . He died in 2002, after we'd broken up 4 times by phone. He was living with another of his soulmates by then - I make assumptions, but I'm probably right, because even I knew she was the first girl he ever had a crush on.  I remember he used to tell me his mother thought she should get a gift on his birthday, for having given birth to him.  He also believed that she was a 15-year old virgin when he was conceived, and his parents were responsible and used a condom in 1954, and that obviously the condom broke because he was born. I only laughed at him once when he told this story;...

I miss knowing every inch of his face, its bone structure, the thinness of his skin.  I miss his funny walk and the surprising strength of his core. I miss the smell of leather and Head-and-Shoulders in his long, thick hair which he somehow could tuck up into a baseball cap.  I miss the way his eyes darted to each side before that inevitable barb rolled off his tongue. He was a master of subtle timing; even he didn't understand that.  His nature erupted into everything he did, from playing guitar to tenderly nursing plant cuttings. Housewives and band groupies called him for his meatloaf recipe, but he took real pride in chocolate eclairs. My kids refused to eat them so he retired, devastated, into the neighbor room.   Some things aren't meant to be gotten over.  Everything still exists, somewhere; nothing is linear, not really. So, you see, it's okay to say no. Nobody should ever say yes until they are comfortable knowing there is no competiti...

I've been exposing my authentic self by working on art in public. Recently I took a booth at a restaurant so I could eat and keep working. People stopped intermittently to compliment my work, and I said, "Thank you!"  And I meant it, and I didn't get all awkward, even when someone wanted to discuss further. I Advanced the Discussion. Gimme a patch for that. Sunday morning I checked into Beanetics  for a French Press, a pastry, and a table to work. This is where the magic happened. The little Barista-chick who likes my illustrations is leaving; next Saturday is her last day making our coffee. We - she, I, and the other regulars - joked about getting matching coffee bean tattoos on our wrists. The Scottish guy doing genealogy work at the next table was polite or uninterested, but a dancer named Heidi leaned in close to check the detail of my work. Her mom appeared later and asked whether Heidi had seen my work; yes, she had. Heidi's mom is named Margi, h...