Tag: California

Disregard the drooling mouths, the incoherent babbles, the lack of fine motor skills: babies are geniuses. At birth, babies can discern every speech sound found in every language. They may not produce much more than dirty diapers, but they absorb the sound profiles of languages like sommeliers sampling pinot grigios ... Read More

In 11th grade creative writing, my poetry dissolved. The overwhelming crush of criticism and the realization that I had no talent stole my brain. When I tried to compose poetry, I threw up my hands with esoteric senseless gibberish. My first husband-partner-lover Scott was a poet. His poetry collection of ... Read More

You’d think ‘bur’ would have two r’s, the hooks on the letter resembling those on the prickles. Our dogs do not love the cocklebur’s almond-sized fruit, especially Fern, whose fur is the consistency of bad wig hair. The burs cling to Fern like Velcro, using her beard, her tail, her ... Read More

Shouldn’t I start with the latest, and most jarring, incident? Before character introductions, before the narrative pondering of questions raised, before metaphors for the sadness, disillusionment, even fear aroused? And fear of what? Being wrong to begin with? Sensing a narrow escape? Somehow … being abandoned? The initial questions already ... Read More

At 22, I turned down my boyfriend’s offer of a gun. The cop, who responded to the 911 call when my stalker broke into the house and stole my leotard, panties, hairbrush, and ballet slippers, insisted a gun could make things worse. That I’d probably hesitate at an intruder’s sob ... Read More

One Dusk, my desk, a poem lodged inside me, stillborn—a flash of darkness at my window, and then a crash in the room next door. Bomb, gunshot, sonic boom? I arrive in time to hear glass shatter and watch the window collapse. Shards of glass scattered among the volumes in ... Read More

It was dread. That was what I was facing if my secret ever got out. Few people would understand it, and almost nobody knew about it, because I was very good at hiding it, but it was always there in the background. My comic book collection was my very own ... Read More

It was around midnight. My buddies and I were running up a deep dark canyon in the Sierra Nevada, trying like hell to keep up with the hounds. They were hot on the scent of something. Finally, we could tell from the sound, the hounds were at bay. Whatever it ... Read More

1. As I sell my art and craft for a living—both in markets, street fairs or street festivals, and through galleries or stores—I walk miles. I don’t walk to the markets, of course. I load (rather overload) my car and drive to my destination. Then I carry my stuff (tables, ... Read More

"Why do all the kids in these paintings look like old men?" Sabine asked, inspecting the legacy of some long-dead Italian. I tilted my head back to drum up a few extra millimeters of breath, placating my air hunger for another minute or two, and replied, "I think those kids ... Read More

Think about a person who meant something to you; and by “something,” I mean at that time you felt like they were your whole world. They were the water in a gravitational pull with the Moon. The Earth tries to hold onto everything as the Moon tries to pull everything ... Read More

At the corner of Health Center and Health Sciences Dr. in La Jolla, California, there is a bright orange sign that states "Share the Road." I had just exited the Moores Cancer Center after my third of seventeen radiation treatments for a patch of malignancy near my right eyelid. This ... Read More

I love moving on this blonde, wooden floor, falling on it, lying on my back on it, even dozing on it for a half hour or so, after which, I wake up with a start, stiff and guilty for sleeping through precious rehearsal time, ordering myself to come up with ... Read More

I was born in Hong Kong in 1962 and came to the U.S. with my mother when she left my father. I was five years old. I learned early on that speaking Chinese made me different, so I stopped speaking Chinese. I was young enough that I learned to speak ... Read More

Our cell phone alarms brought us loudly and abruptly to wakefulness at one o’clock in the morning. I opened my eyes to the cool, exposed darkness of wilderness and wondered aloud whether we had even slept at all. By two o’clock, we had shuffled and groaned our way out of ... Read More

The Man with Diminished Humor. My marriage—our eighteen-years of for better, for worse—was, on its surface, a castle with exquisite gardens and the most elegant façade. A walk-through of the interior exposed the true state of our union: spider-vein cracks, chipped paint, and mold. Our house clung to its secrets, ... Read More

Five o’clock on Sunday and I’m trying to figure out, again, how to get out of going to church. My husband and I watch television in the living room, savoring those last moments of the weekend before Monday begins to breathe its heavy hand over us. Feeling Jason’s eyes, I ... Read More