I stopped by the ol’ podcast shack to talk to Bill Dwight and Jaz Tupelo about my book Everything You Didn’t Ask For. Discussed: My soul, suicide, old movies, Charles Schulz, internet trolls, One More Cup Of Coffee (now a book you can purchase!), and other ramblings. I bet I will sell thousands of copies because of this! Check out a bunch of other cool stuff at The Bill Dwight Show.
It’s a blustery New England morning on Main Street. I inhale a chilly lungful of Monday, smug in the knowledge that, unlike west coast writers, I get to use words like “blustery.” I step into SIP for a coffee and a bagel. I’m not sure if all-capping SIP is required, but I do it because I dig their sign, which is all-caps, which is successful branding. Continue reading →
6:59—By the time I make it to the bleachers, it’s the end of the second inning. The Valley Blue Sox versus the North Adams Guys Wearing Black Shirts. I’ve decided to catch a collegiate league baseball game as an excuse to get out of the house on a nice summer evening. I’m out of my element here, trying my best to blend in. I wear my Red Sox hat, so no one will point and scream at me like a bodysnatched Donald Sutherland. I sit on the bleachers, keep my head down, and write. I’ll probably get beaned. See? “Beaned.” That’s a baseball word. I know stuff. Continue reading →
Before he was even out of bed in the morning, one of the first things on Jon’s mind was his bamboo plant. Not because he particularly cared about it, but because it was right there, a few feet from the foot of the bed, waiting for the blinds to be raised so it could get a little sunshine. Continue reading →
It was an average night at the dead mall: the elderly were pocketing ceramic bird figurines while children were buying things with handfuls of pennies. Unknown brand names lined the shelves. The blank cassette tapes, hair scrunchies, and Virgin Mary nightlights were selling briskly. I answered customer inquiries such as “How much is this?” and “Is this a dollar?” and “How much would two of these cost?” Continue reading →
Vocalist/guitarist Tom Pappalardo, ribbed the sleepy night’s small audience, mostly hovering quietly at the back and sides of the room: “I want you to stand as far away as possible, and I want you to sit.” Continue reading →
We’re standing across the street from our house early on Sunday morning, surveying our grand 1/8th acre estate and discussing our yard work plans for spring. I tell Sarah I will be smarter this year and trim the hedge along the fence before it blooms. I realize that the phrase “nip it in the bud” has a real-world literal meaning. It had honestly never occurred to me before. Continue reading →
It was the summer of ‘86 and Eddie couldn’t hit a dog’s ass with a fistful of TV Guides. He spent long stifling nights on his porch, coaxing clear signal from his portable black and white Japanese television set. Had particular trouble getting channel 32 from out Waterville way. Horizontal lines, verticals not holding, frequencies fighting frequencies on the inside of the little Shibaura’s picture tube. Continue reading →