Secrets of the Universe Revealed

Writer to the Stars

Writer to the Stars
Dallas, Texas, USA
August 15
Writer to the Stars
A long-time freelance writer who was fated to live in Dallas, Texas and marry a tall photographer. And who did. 31 years into it now. It seemed to be working. And then the whole damned roof fell in. But we've both been to the rodeo before, even this one, and we know what to do. You cowboy up.


Writer to the Stars's Links

Editor’s Pick
APRIL 28, 2010 1:49AM

Meeting the Minotaur...

For a lot of reasons: lousy personality, odd obsessions, a reading addiction, and peculiar parents, I was an alone child, but not usually a lonely child.  Alone was my preferred state most of the time, and then, suddenly, my world would seem small as an ice cube and I'd start wishing… Read full post »

APRIL 23, 2010 11:29AM

A brief inventory of hideous objects

The single child's shoe in the middle of a freeway. Oh God, says your husband, when he sees it.  Not the shoe.  The sight affects you both like a raven's caw, like a cricket at midnight chirping out the death watch.  You cross yourself when you see the shoe, imagining the… Read full post »
Editor’s Pick
APRIL 23, 2010 2:39AM

Black dog running loose...

The black dog is running loose, toenails clicking on the pavement, jagged white teeth showing, hunting in this lightless thickening night...

I have an addict friend who calls his invariable bouts of crashing depression the black dog, as did Winston Churchill. My friend is sober now  and has been… Read full post »

Editor’s Pick
FEBRUARY 19, 2010 2:52AM

Trees, tweakers, and other sorrows...

"How do you know your soul is in your body? Like how do you feel it? An' how do you know it's soul and not spirit?" Ramone, my intense tree trimmer was asking me this as we roared down Gus Thomasson. We were speeding towards Home Depot so he could rent… Read full post »

Editor’s Pick
FEBRUARY 18, 2010 2:30AM

Guns, no roses...

During the summer and into the warm days of late fall, we went through a jumpy period here in my Eas' Dallas neighborhood. On a Saturday night, always around ten PM, there'd be the fast pap-pap-pap of an automatic handgun. A drive-by. One gang, maybe the eternal East Dallas Locos, had… Read full post »

Editor’s Pick
FEBRUARY 15, 2010 11:48PM

Live locally, mofo...

Driving back from the supermarket towards my mongrel neighborhood, I have occasion to drive through some hipstery areas, and it was in one such that I saw this sign in a yard: Live Locally...Support East Dallas. I wondered to myself how you could do anything else besides live locally, but that's… Read full post »

Editor’s Pick
FEBRUARY 2, 2010 1:35AM

Be a Buddha...

Tomorrow, I'll go to pick up the ashes of my cat, Antone Boudreau. The doctor offered to scatter his ashes in a memorial garden she has. "Thanks," I told her, "but he needs to be buried here." Here in our back yard, near the big wide red live oak that's wrapped… Read full post »

JANUARY 26, 2010 1:46AM

Anonymously yourn...

Was he telling me a dream, or saying he felt like this? I can't remember. I think he said, I feel like a haint. Or, maybe it was, I dreamed an old man called me a haint. "If you start saying shit like haint, we're gonna find ourselves with a bottle… Read full post »

Editor’s Pick
JANUARY 23, 2010 11:39PM

Quilt squares...

My great-grandmother Lucy made quilts; they were pieced together out of tiny, tiny bits of fabric. She chose her pieces with an eye to texture and pattern and seemed to like small intricate designs. I have her wedding-ring quilt up in my attic now. It's over ninety years old; the top… Read full post »

JANUARY 19, 2010 11:24PM

Screams in the night...

In the room next to my husband's at Baylor, there's a man who screams all night long: Oh, Jesus, I need a shot! Help! Help! Give me a shot! God, help me and give me some morphine! Just one shot of morphine! Help me! I need a shot so bad! Oh,Read full post »

JANUARY 17, 2010 11:25PM

So there you are...


I have this theory that we don't pick our friends. They're assigned by God, the Fates, Lord Buddha, the Shakina: whoever and whatever governs the pudding. One day, you glance around blinking and think...I had no idea. Meaning, you had no idea that this person who stumbled into you at… Read full post »

If I were a Dickinsian sort of writer, churning out my inky scribblings for a daily rag, with my breathless public awaiting the fate of Little Nell, that last post would do it: keep everyone nicely breathless, that is. I left Pauline tied to the railroad tracks, with the train chugging… Read full post »

DECEMBER 31, 2009 7:40PM

The widow's walk...

Widow's walk:  a platform or walk atop a roof, as on certain coastal New England houses of the 18th and early 19th centuries: often used as a lookout for incoming ships.

You never know what ships are sailing, or what they carry, that's my experience. So it's a good idea not… Read full post »

Lately, rather than me living my life, I feel like life is living me. Most of the time I utterly hate it: this being blown around by one contingency or another like a dead leaf. Still, when I look back on my life, the one I had before my husband's stroke,… Read full post »

DECEMBER 6, 2009 2:09AM

A licensed nurse will be standing by...

Just as I was glancing around my yard with my usual landscaping grumpiness (goddamn, the work this place needs) and thinking my thoughts, I saw Huey, my neighbor headed towards me, already talking about something. As is his way. It doesn't really matter if you're there or not when he starts.… Read full post »

DECEMBER 4, 2009 2:07AM's a love story

The paralysis my boy has from the stroke is a complete stone-drag. One of its crueler aspects is his not always knowing whether he needs to piss 0r not. Some sensation is returning in partial ways, but this fleshly deadness still means paper undies, catheters, salves: the whole catastrophe. Since I… Read full post »

NOVEMBER 29, 2009 12:56AM


NOVEMBER 24, 2009 1:22AM

Like a lotus on the Ganges...

So her oldest and dearest friend phones the girl.  "I'll come over for a couple of hours, sit with him, and you can go do something just for you," she says.

"Something like what?" the girl wants to know, hoping this isn't a pitch for pedicures, long steamy baths, and… Read full post »

Ultimately, it was the sleepwalking that sent me scurrying off to a doctor. It's weird and exhausting to wake up, say, in the diningroom or the kitchen. It's also unnerving to be acting in some dream state, dreams being the unpredictable things they are. I just hoped I wouldn't have one… Read full post »

NOVEMBER 9, 2009 1:38AM

Really not the Lady with the Lamp...

In the second grade, when the subpar Bluebird Reading Group, the hamster sickening in it's pinched lousy cage, our wilting bean plants jammed into dented Dixie cups, or the paste eaters in the corner  all conspired to send me into a depressive tailspin, I coped by conjuring up some lie potent… Read full post »

During the late Jurassic age, I taught elementary art to get my teacher's certificate. Humping more supplies than a hundred dollar mule, I schlepped from school to school and met the wee ones. No mistake, these were tough rooms, so as an opener I'd asked the same question. How old areRead full post »

Baylor Rehab people are great on setting goals, even when those goals are tiny and creep out us more abled types. My goal is to know when I'm going to crap. My goal is to roll my chair to the short bus. My goal is to clean my dick. And, don't… Read full post »

OCTOBER 26, 2009 3:16AM

Chop Water, Carry Wood...

"Chuck Taylors," the bodyguard-sized black guy, remarked approvingly, glancing down at my feet. We were sharing an elevator at the Baylor Institute for Rehabilitation. He wore khakis, a Baylor-issued polo shirt with Baylor Rehab stitched over the tit, and enormous cross-trainers.

"Yeah," I told him… Read full post »

Friday night I ate dinner in the bathroom, which seemed weird but there was no one there to comment. I was gnawing on the roast chicken I'd bought a couple of days before, but my cats frothed into Chicken Madness with such ferocity that the Big Chicken and I fled to… Read full post »

OCTOBER 14, 2009 3:00PM


Some things don't bear thinking on. Like what happens to Easter chicks and those free puppies at the mall. Or wondering uneasily about that child's shoe discarded and tumbling on the freeway? Or remembering my husband's body become wax, his skin turning loose and gray like a tattered garment, his mou… Read full post »