Interlude
My old college buddy James showed up with a grocery bag full of those little travel bottles of vodka. I was on a forced writing holiday – five days away from my thankless, low-paying day job to focus on the …
Tag: james
The Experiment
James spun by for some post-Thanksgiving down time. I usually saw more of him as the holidays approach as he had a greater number of local family members to avoid. Though, for the last two weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, …
American Musings
I think about moving. Leaving DC. Escape. Getting away from the rush, the angry people, the crippled commuters, the twisted women, the broken souls. I weigh my options for relocation. Where do I see myself? If I give myself over …
Two Novels and a Baby (August 19th)
The challenge: I produce a completed and somewhat serviceable novel by December 15th. The challengers: My old college buddy James and his unborn baby (due on or about the 15th). The rules: I can’t share anything I write, and it …
Two Novels and a Baby (August 7th)
My old college buddy James had really toned down over the last couple years. He’d gotten himself sober, married a girl named Marcie, and started on a weirdly responsible career ladder. I hadn’t seen much of him since he announced …
The Tiger’s Path
There’s a certain wildman in Bethesda, MD whose iPod keeps shuffling back to Donovan songs. Over the last few back deck sessions at his Palace of Wonders, I’ve found myself thinking again and again about an old story I wrote. …
44, part eight (conclusion)
Nixon was easy. We could go anywhere, really, but James had been talking about the 600 at Watergate South, which wasn’t really the sort of place where we belonged…but they had a full bar. We somehow managed to get in …
44, part seven
Back to DC. It was bourbon at the Hotel Washington for Eisenhower. I don’t know the connection, but I’m sure it seemed logical at the time. I also couldn’t tell you where we ended up for Truman, but a deep …
44, part six
“Thirty.” James said. “Coolidge.” “Notable points?” “None.” “Really?” “Really.”
44, part five
Twenty-eight. Wilson. The First World War. We ended up in Silver Spring, Maryland, at the Quarry House. None of us could remember how that happened, but it did, and so we made the best of it. Energy was flagging all …