Ug, online dating. Now that I’m single, I should check out the dating scene. Modern internet applications make it easy to put myself out there and peruse offerings. However, online dating never was quite for me. I have ambivalent sexual orientation complicating whether I join looking for-men or for-women sites. …
Eventually in my time off, I do dumb things to claim freedom and flouting of convention. Lacking a job, office, or peers, I can do what I want, especially if silly. Eight years ago in an Austin driveway, I sandpapered my car and painted the hood and trunk orange. I …
I work again on projects, a good sign of my improving mental health. Restless and isolated, I create. I solder together strings of LEDs and super glue them into a coat. I sketch out a pair of light-up Cupid wings for an upcoming Valentine’s Day party. I ask for my …
I’m back in San Francisco and depressingly single, so I reconnect with my network of friends. I bring together fellow travelers Jay and Dominique Saturday night at “Writers with Drinks”. I prepare a papaya salad for a Monday night potluck in far-off Oakland. I host a Thursday-night meet-and-greet at Rosemunde …
I’m tired of writing. Every morning after breakfast, I sit in front of the same blank page to say something pithy and notable. I’m tired of navel gazing. I’ve said so much. This writing can veer narcissistic and depressing. Nonetheless, I continue to write daily. This may be the frazzled …
Pants no longer work for me. They fall down my legs. Daily hip-opening exercises on a foam roller have gradually straightened my trunk, eroding my hip shelf for hooking on pants. Early January’s week of dysentery has emptied me skinny. I’m punch new holes in belts. I search for size …