I’ve forgotten almost completely why I began this writing project.
We just got back up the New River from our excursion down to Biscayne Bay, just beneath Miami.
This story is a continuation of You’re either gay or in the CIA part 1.
Mr lethargic took out a strange flat metal pipe and we did a little puff puff give. He was stingy and put it back in his pack after a couple puffs. This would…
Little by little, almost imperceptibly our departure date has slipped, and slipped again. It was going to be April 10th, then we needed a special part so it got pushed back. Then it arrived broken, so we had to wait another 10 days for a replacement. Now it’s arrived, but…
Writing at its best has a sort of alchemical quality. You take experiences and transmute them into something of a higher order. You discover and amplify their meaning.
That is why I find the following story so strange. I’m not sure what it means.
Dan just walked out the back door to pack for his LA trip where he will record a podcast. I’m now alone in the co working space that has housed me for the 45 days I’ve been in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. It’s quiet. Out the…
Dear god, it was the last thing in the world I wanted to happen. The spinning, the whirling, the uncontrollable multiple trajectories. Will the starboard bow slam into something? Will the port? Our boat was like a slow-motion top from hell seeking a yacht to collide with.
The original departure date was April 10th. That was the drop-dead date- the point at which we would drop everything and under any circumstances we would sail away, so long as our ship was seaworthy. Well, today is April 13th, and are we underway? I regret to say I am writing from a marina with…