Full Blue Moon Dementia

    “Sir, you must have known that when you moved it wouldn’t just follow you, even if you did transfer the phone number, it’s not like it’s a dog!” said the somewhat irritatingly unconcerned voice on the other end of the phone. Ok, so like maybe I’m not the most tech savvy of individuals...

    My trip to the great outdoors, accompanied by my fellow co-workers, began with a meandering migration inland to Pinnacles State Park (http://www.nps.gov/pinn/), located some 30 odd miles south of Hollister California. Our road trip required three cars more or less caravanning and featuring at least a hundred stops along the way as lattes,...

    I’ve been living in my modest domicile for like what? A year? Two? (Christ, it has been two years!) And though it is not large enough or even remotely roomy, sorta more what money guzzling San Francisco landlords in a cruel attempt at deception tend to describe as cozy or compact, so consequently...

The mini-half fridge in my apartment has two kinds of water staring me in the face, bubbly and flat and only the wilted cilantro wedged between the hand-pressed organic mustard seed mustard and the very un-organic high in cholesterol Best Foods brand mayo in its squeezable tube resemble anything edible. The cantaloupe has been there...

    Ah, that comfortable tinkling sound as the ice cubes flow to one side of the coffee mug and who’d a thought that the Scotch Whiskey of years past would be replaced with the Ther-a-flu of today? No longer “medicating one’s self” in the language of addiction, but actually medicating one’s self in a...

    It’s just 10:53 pm and my neighbors are already jumping around like the drug crazed infidels that they truly are—though at the moment a little bit more than usual, and no doubt dancing that forbidden dance of the Voodoo while ritual-sacrificing some warm blooded beast to last night’s full moon. I can already...

Long lost was the cap to the toothpaste, down the spiral of the drain and lodged against the honed steel fang of the garbage disposal. Demise awaits, nibbling the tips-o-me-fingers as I crammed the straining stubbies into its orifice, the rubber apron lips a minute obstacle to an impending view of destruction. Contemplating suicide the...