New Orleans, LA – July 8, 2003
These days I eat onions like they’re apples. I eat them on the subway, on buses, airplanes and even when I’m walking in the street. I always carry one with me, raw, red, de-skinned. [Click on image for more…]
Category Archives: Fiction
Memphis, TN to New Orleans, LA – July 6, 2003
From either the goodbye party or the dream that had come after, she remembered the following: a Ferris wheel, a broken drumstick, the smell of tulips, and a lot of plural nouns ending on “i”. [Click on image for more…]
Memphis, TN – July 5, 2003
This used to be the Map Room, a sloping storage space under the eaves of a dormer, where my uncle would go when he wanted to find somewhere else. [Click on image for more…]
Memphis, TN – July 4, 2003
My father knows every song no one’s ever heard of. His head is like a cemetery where the failures of great songwriters lie buried in tombs and graves like the corpses of distant uncles and aunts forever forgotten by their families. [Click on image for more…]
Dublin, VA – July 3, 2003
When she was in her early twenties, my grandmother wore long strands of pearls and drank bathtub gin, and she looked at men when they talked to her, and when they didn’t. [Click on image for more…]
Harrisonburg, VA – July 2, 2003
I have always wanted to write a story about Shenandoah National Park. This is not that story. I am in Harrisonburg, Virginia. It’s close enough to Shenandoah in terms of miles, but right now it’s the farthest place from Shenandoah in terms of rain. [Click on image for more…]
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