I knew this kid in high school who was obsessed with poop. He’d measure every one of his shits – not just the quantity but the consistency. He’d fish out his turds and analyze them based on a series of parameters and record the progress (if that’s the right word) on a chart. He once […]
I’ve finished a 380 page memoir about my family. I didn’t plan on that… The original plan was to write a 100 page “memoir” that, primarily, answered the one big question — what the fuck was up with your parents, Nacho? Initially, I did write this 100 page version. A sort of outline of what […]
In October, I was forced to move. In the move, I found a bunch of old floppy discs from high school that were packed with horrifying examples of my childhood prose and poetry. Now, I post it to the front page to preserve the greatness that is me. (cough)
On October 5th my apartment flooded out and I had to move and the last six weeks have been generally awful. While I was going through everything and trying to salvage the enormous mountains of hoarder trash I appear to have accumulated, I found a shoebox at the bottom of my closet filled with floppy […]
I’ve spent most of my life waiting for people to die. In my family, death is the only possible way for the living to find closure and peace. In life, there is no middle ground with my family. Grudges are held for generations, sons and daughters can never hope for forgiveness. A grudge, in my […]
I was in New York with friends in the early 90’s shortly after I cranked out the second half of the Boble. At the time, I was running a tiny little publishing company called Purple Publications, where I put together homemade chapbooks and sold them for around $5 a pop. The Boble was my top […]
I learned my “haste makes waste” lesson from Catherine Tolnay, my 4th grade teacher at my Catholic grade school. And I hope she died a lonely death at the end of a hard, empty life.
A couple of friends have recently told me that I need to talk about my problems. All the childhood madness, all the fears, all the things that cripple me emotionally. If I talk about these things, then they’ll have no power over me.
When I was a kid, I used to think there was a little man in my stomach who was responsible for handling all of the poop. Day after day, there he was, at the bottom of my stomach, surrounded by vats of bubbling acid, endlessly shoveling poop down a little hole that led to my […]