April 26, 2017
March 19, 2017
Had such a PDX day. Walked out into sunshine and was severely under-dressed and cold. How can it be cold when the sun is shining? I guess I'm not in San Diego anymore. I waited for a streetcar and was entertained by a toothless wrinkled guy wearing a JESUS hat who said he'd move (more…)
March 5, 2017
I just escaped from being held hostage in by excessively aggressive futon salespeople desperate to survive furniture trends they know are going the way of tanning salons. A sad salesman asked what I was looking for (a firm pillow one might prop behind her back) and when they didn't have that, his (more…)
October 9, 2016
I've lived in the city of weird for most of my life, but it's mostly been a milieu of my own making. Now, there's an anthology called "City of Weird" http://www.forestavenuepress.com/city-of-weird-features-30-supernatural-portland-stories/ that's chock full of fun, surprise, and real and imagined weirdness from the city that competes with Austin (more…)
April 8, 2016
My mom used to say, "No news is good news," and I never understood the proverb. I assumed it meant that all news is bad news: that there is no news of any kind that can ever be good. I assume this makes me a cynic and a pessimist, except that I figured out (more…)
December 30, 2015
Counting today's purchase, I've spent over $200k on Dr. Scholl's foot care products. Every time I buy them, I try to remind myself of how many inserts lie on my closet floor collecting dirt or how many have been lost or abandoned in the last 20 years, but hope springs eternal and there are always (more…)
November 16, 2015
by Leslie What
We are creatures who seek to classify ourselves by tribe and history, creatures who must categorize every human experience to better understand it. You live either in a blue state or a red one… a team wins or loses the Pennant Race… a story is either realism or fantasy. We teach (more…)
November 12, 2015
I'm reading this 7-minute story tonight at the Phantom Drift Ensemble Reading:
The newborn was wrinkled and curled like an old man.
"You look as if you've already lived," said his mother.
The baby, eyes watery and butterfly blue, opened his mouth, popped imperfect spit bubbles with his tongue.
The husband stood beside the hospital bed to massage the mother's shoulders. "He's like a fish," he (more…)
March 18, 2014
March 7, 2014
The last few years have been fallow, creative-wise, due to illness, moving to Portland, and the continuing emotional cost of grieving for my mother. When you're not doing the thing you think gives you an identity, it might be useful to find other things besides that one thing. I've been editing fiction forPost a comment