And so I come to the end of my faerie tale.  Or was it a tale about faeries?  Perhaps it was both.  Nevertheless, I am so happy you were able to watch my downfall.  Better yet I am thrilled you were witnesses to my eventual recovery. Remember that I did… Read full post »

I don't know why I try to share my thoughts with the general public. It seems as if it is nothing more than entertainment for them. The pain is real. Reality is pain. My heart aches for life to end, yet it persists and I persist within it. If I… Read full post »

I watch from my window the men and women blithely walking by. They do not know I see them. I do not know who they are. But we are connected. I stop and consider Saturday and the sheer banality of such experiences. Really, is desire so trivial that it can be… Read full post »

Have you ever wondered what purported tidbits of fruit actually make up a Libby’s Fruit Cocktail™? Have you ever considered that the little orange cubes never bleed into the little off-white cubes and that the little red bits are redder than most things in nature? Have you ever ask… Read full post »

The spiral begins and I learn that I am only good for one thing – pleasing men. Even that talent has been questioned recently. I hesitate to think what will come of me when I can no longer perform the duties that are expected of me. The only thing in my… Read full post »

Thursday

While re-reading this journal so fraught with angst that I needed to share my pain with the world, I had a little epiphany then sent him off to scrub the cat sick off the carpet with a toothbrush. Oh, I meant an epigoni, my bad. Nevertheless, I am sure no… Read full post »

As I prepare myself for IML 2009, I am re-reading this essay I wrote about IML 2008 with the hope that I will NOT repeat myself this year. This essay comes in 6 sections. Watch and laugh as I fall apart like Virginia Woolf. Oh, if only there were stones nearby,… Read full post »

I don’t know if my love for soda bread is related to my being half Irish, or my insatiable desire for carbohydrates, but I have never passed up an opportunity to eat it. Obviously St. Patrick’s Day is a happy day in my book, because Irish Americans from sea to shining… Read full post »

Tiramisu is Italian peasant food. However, if the term 'peasant food' offends your delicate sensibilities, I can easily replace it with 'comfort food' as they are often mutually exclusive. It is important to me, no matter how much I may try to gussy it up that in the end I allow… Read full post »

Aside from my parent’s pathological need to fill our pantry with enough food-stuffs to feed a small, starving African nation, they had a hoarding habit for other small non-essential items: nails, screws, bolts, nuts, rubber bands, twist ties, stubs of pencils that were older than either of the/… Read full post »

Ah... Summer, Sommer, Καλοκαίρι, Été, Verano.

Sunglasses, tank tops, shorts and sandals.Beaches, tans and cocoa butter.

Palmetto fans printed with a name of a funeral home, rocking chairs, front porches, afternoon thunderstorms… Read full post »

Life is about quantity, not quality- at least that was my instruction while growing up.  Why buy good quality when you could buy a lot of something at lower cost and imitation?  Every Saturday, after church, if my sister and I behaved, our family would go out to dinner.  This was… Read full post »

My family’s pantry was filled with enough preserved, dried, canned and sulfite-infused food-stuffs to keep us nourished throughout the nuclear assault which would unquestionably zero in on our home and the subsequent months of nuclear winter.  Often, I daydreamed that there was a large re/… Read full post »

“That is a classic combination.”  My friend Daniel interjected as I was describing a recent soup I made for the pub.

“Really?” I asked.  Daniel, being the gourmand in our bridge foursome, has owned a couple restaurants and has traveled the world, thus I… Read full post »

4-11-98 Spring, New Orleans, 726 Barracks- The French Quarter

It’s 3:40 PM and I am standing on the front porch of my shotgun house.  I watch the residents and tourists walking by- back and forth and back and forth again.  ‘Where are they going?’ I ask myself.  … Read full post »