Essay: Wishing and Burning and Quitting and Starting

February 26th, 2010 § 0

Just go to sleep, I think. Nothing left for you tonight but a late start tomorrow.

It is 1:26 AM on my mother’s birthday, and it is another night in North Texas with temperatures below freezing. As it is February, that may not seem like remarkable, but it has been a cold new year so far by local standards. It was sleeting in Fort Worth earlier, and on Thursday it will snow for what must be the third time this year, with two other snow days trailing back into the late days of 2009.

I turned 30 last year, in the middle of what has become a year and a half without a day job. I have freelanced and with both regular contract work and the occasional freelance article, there have been few days when I haven’t worked during that time. I wrote my first travel essay about Obama’s inauguration on commission for my friend Harvey Kronberg a little over a year ago. I even had my first cover story, a happy milestone that was borne from a long month of writing and pitching and resolved with the publication of a feature in June’s Texas Observer.

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If I Am A Stranger

January 14th, 2010 § 2

Come, let us renew ourselves
here, with each other.
Normally we sit on shelves
and deny that we are brothers

because there’s no money
in it. The best way to know
who you are these days, the key
is to look to others, so

that you can learn a little about
you. If I am a stranger still
after all this time we’ve gone without,
then I’ll know it was your will.

Holiday Vignettes 3: IV – Brothers

January 12th, 2010 § 0

I was lucky this year to see
my brother at Christmas. He’s been
in Oregon for years now
with his lovely wife Sarah
and snow dog Clancy.

As we’ve gotten older I have
come to think we look less and less alike.
I have never felt that we shared much
of a physical resemblance: My legs
are short – I’m all torso, while my brother

is built more evenly, a solid foundation
he’s worn well for most of 38 years.
My belief for a long time was that most of what we shared
was an occasional deep melancholy and
a deeper thing for brunettes.

But now I have been his brother
for every day of 30 years. Although we are
separated by years in age (and years apart), he is in
my kitchen or my office when I
laugh suddenly, or

do an impression of The Man.  Now
you can see the resemblance
more in how we act and
who we’ve become than
how we look.

Holiday Vignettes 3: III – Twitter

January 4th, 2010 § 0

We all had Christmas on Twitter this year -

now, at the holidays, instead
of not thinking of you

(and, as a result, relegating you
to non-holiday status,

forcing you to exist only
in the ether of memory
between when I can see you
and when I cannot)

instead now I know how you
feel about your mom and
fight with your husband and

hate Christmas and
seemingly, regret having kids.

(This is why you belong in the ether.)

Mostly though, between my own tweets
about being with my family and
our exact location and
about when Diana’s driving surely
saved us along the scary way home on the ice

I am glad we didn’t get robbed.


Holiday Vignettes 3: II

December 22nd, 2009 § 0

In my father’s house:
there is no escape
from The Fart Game

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