Surplus Cats

Don’t turn your back on me baby Don’t turn your back on me baby 1990. I was 12. It was hot and sticky and my father’s car didn’t have air conditioning, but it did have a tape deck and one cassette. The tape was a blank one he’d filled both sides entirely with Santana’s Black [...]

Ten years ago I sold my 87 Pontiac Sunbird for scrap, packed an army duffel, got on a plane, and landed in Los Angeles. The near-year I spent there encompassed some of the most fun I’ve had along with the absolute worst point in my life so far. I do not regret a minute of [...]

I’ve been working on a bit of exposition about racism in speculative fiction, but that’s been derailed by some ridiculous goings-on over at the group blog I participate in, Steel City Skeptics, on the subject of the local news being loco perhaps, but certainly not news. I figured I would repost a note I made [...]

Every time I see Cheney I think about the day his motorcade got me stuck on a sidewalk in Dupont Circle for just enough time to make me late, and his big smug face smirking from behind an insuficiently tinted window at the frustrated crowd of communters. I cannot wait until this story becomes “the [...]

You were a library assistant at the Frankford branch of the Philadelphia Free Library in 1991 and the only one who would still deal with me after I told the nosy head librarian to “go home and pet your forty cats if you don’t feel like doing your job” when she attempted to deny me [...]