police horse home…

Police Horse, Part II

Continued from Part I The letter from the Social Security Administration sat on the table waiting…
The Songs Remain the Same

“Hey, are you the drummer?” I said to Clementine, whose name I had forgotten. “Yes,” she…
Irish Rich Kelley and the Three Computers

Espresso Metro In the late 1990’s, I and my friends Mathieu and Randy befriended an elderly…
Riding double

There was something about being a kid and riding double on a bike. I can still…
Dishes

I’m not convinced a dishwasher saves people much, if any, time. The household dishwasher’s chief function…
How Cowboy Junkies Brought Me Full Circle

Crossroads I moved to Sacramento from Los Angeles when I was twenty, in 1989, leaving behind…
Telemarketing, or, Donna Reed Writes

My first real job was as a telemarketer for the Los Angeles Times. A couple of…
Other Chip, or, On Shyness

Recently I heard that everyone is shy to some degree. I’m somewhere in the middle of…
Bill Gets Hit By a Bus

Where I grew up in Southern California, we didn’t call them bodegas, packies, party stores, markets,…