I wasn’t going to write anything about this Christmas. I didn’t have the energy. It wasn’t anything like, “If I can’t rip off my mask and French 50 other folks over fondue then I’m not doing it.” It was simply the fact that this year has gone by so incredibly fast it didn’t seem like…
The Strain, Part 5
When I was a kid, my next-door-neighbor Stephanie Carter’s mom loved horror movies, the gorier the better. When she heard a man’s legs were hacked off in the middle of the night in some British schlockfest none of us had heard of, we were piled into the car and driven to the Eagle Drive-In tout…
The Strain, Part 4
Thank God I’d had a second cup of coffee so I could see the cars ahead of me, all twenty-five of them, screeching to a halt. I could already make out the man, disheveled, maybe homeless, holding a bottle of beer with one hand and the railing of the overpass above us with the other. …
What About Me??
My first day on my first job in LA began disastrously. The coke-snorting manager of the high—end-ish restaurant where we all dressed like pirates took me into the kitchen to meet the chef. His name was Sal. He was African-American, well over six feet tall. He nodded, carving something big, juicy and pink with a…
The Strain, Part 3
So overwhelming. Everything. Like we need one gigantic miracle after another to give us some sort of light at the end of the lockdown tunnel. A gigantic miracle that never seems to come. “You know how the South Koreans did so well with the corona? Kimchee. They put it up their noses. Worth a try, …
The Strain, Part 2
I woke up knee deep in another day of the apocalypse and decided to make another list. Because I know the vast majority of people are waiting to see what it is I’m going to say/do about a particular thing before they do it. So see attached in no particular order: We’re all currently, in…
The Strain, Part 1
It was over so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. I was at the window at the bank. There had been no line. I was separated from the teller by a ceiling-high sheet of glass. I noticed an industrial-strength can of Lysol on the counter next to her. In the nanosecond between the time…
The Walking Dead
The text that began my day read: “Please dear God tell me you’re still alive.” My friend Kim from back home. “Lord,” I’m thinking, “what natural California disaster have I missed this time? Earthquake? Fire? Kale shortage?” You get these sort of texts often in our wonderful/volatile state. But the next one proved even more…
New Car Smell
“There’s mud up there in the rainy season,” I hear myself saying. “And lots of it. So from now on, you’re driving us and that’s that.” Anyone who buys a new car knows the drill for the first few weeks – park a block away at the market, no eating in the vehicle, get it…
Panic in Post-nasal Park
I’m not a drug addict. I mean, not a professional one. You won’t find me in a burned-out Hollywood building waiting for some ne-er do well to bring my next red chicken fix. And even though most of the crowd I ran with in high school thought pot was the greatest thing ever, it always…