FT&MA wild writing

Sink as far down as you can be pulled up
Happiness really ain’t all about luck
Let your demeanor be your deep down self
And don’t sacrifice your life for your health
When you speak, speak sincere
And believe me friend, everyone will hear

Fontaines D.C. – A Hero’s Death

She had horses

She had horses who loved her. And horses who didn’t but tried. Horses who didn’t know and never would.  She had horses who shivered in snow.  She had horses who shivered anyway, any day.  She had horses who were wise. She had horses who thought they were wise.  She had horses who couldn’t be trusted … Continue reading She had horses

Be vast

“Things ain’t what they used to be” – where does that line come from? Must be a musical from my childhood – ‘Oliver,’ maybe. If so, we are going back over 40-odd years to a line that is perfect for today in September 2020, when the first TV debate will air between Biden and Trump. … Continue reading Be vast

You bet your life

Unscripted, free-flowing monologue recorded in one take and then transcribed, just to try something different. Some years ago – well, eight years ago – I had an experience. I saw, for the first time in my life, a dead body. It wasn’t a war experience, or anything like that. It was my brother-in-law. It was … Continue reading You bet your life

Things change

The more things change, the more things get weird. I was going to say that we know change happens. The seasons do their thing, as do tides and the second hands of clocks and watches. Bank accounts run down; gas tanks empty. Fridges, in our house, get fuller. Dust settles, perspective shifts. We age, while … Continue reading Things change


I’m not the kind of person who goes to a doctor for a check-up. This isn’t a brave boast, it’s a confession of stupidity and I need to change my ways. Thing is, I worry that if I go, something will show up. I know. I know. Back in January of this year – before … Continue reading Blinding

Recipro City

Recipro City   Awake at 3:00 AM, I feel a pain that immediately convinces me I’m about to die. It’s a stabbing pain I am familiar with, but familiarity helps not when it comes to stabbing pains, in my experience. I make sounds that I am immediately aware might sound sexual, if in fact I … Continue reading Recipro City

Off script

I had rented a Ford Fiesta. A small car but this one had perhaps the best engine Ford made that year. It was the year my mother died. Cynthia Quinton – my mother – loved cars. She didn’t understand much about the engineering of cars, but she had a rare understanding of gear changing and … Continue reading Off script


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