Recoil Small towns can be rough. Especially when you’ve fucked up and rumors abound. Even years later, somehow you’re still a marked man. I am getting used to the peculiar phenomenon I like to call the “slow recoil.” You meet someone, they seem to enjoy meeting you, then, maybe at the end of the conversation, something flicks on in their read more >>

Electric Fence A friend writes in his morning lines, “Light, there is so much of it. Even the wind is full of color this morning.” I read a book on Miles who says, “Prejudice and curiosity are responsible for what I have done in music.” Last night on the golf course before dark: clear, windless. The day’s heat evaporated, leaving read more >>

Treading Water About through a nine-day holiday break. Haven’t shot myself yet. Don’t know how to use guns. Have spent more time with a leaf-blower in my hand than I normally care to. Trying to cut down on drinking is like shouting after a horse galloping past, “Slow down!” Ten days out from oral surgery and my damn molar still read more >>