Here

There's a club a few blocks from my home here on Seattle's Capitol Hill. This being Capitol Hill, it's a mostly queer club, but this being Seattle, everybody's welcome. My partner Michael, the tattooed skinhead chef, sometimes goes there on Thursdays (which are his Fridays) for “Roc/… Read full post »

Since I live on the opposite side of the continent, I call my mother once a week. She's says I call once a month. There's no knowing which is true since neither of us is a reliable source of information about the other.

It's only fair to warn you it's possible… Read full post »

Sophie Wisniewski is a witch. We know this because she says so and because she's outlined her strange eyes in black. She's also wearing a shiny purple bedspread draped over the pink nylon night gown that covers her all the way to her lime green flip-flops.

It's February and 40° in… Read full post »

  It's March 25, 1999 – the day after my birthday. Exactly a dozen years ago back East I was told I had two years to live. Now, a decade past my expiration date, I do so in San Francisco where I have no ghosts, only the irony of living to 40… Read full post »