Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,– Richard iii




The commander took the coffee, nodded his thanks and dismissal.

They sat in the choir loft; it was the only place the tracks didn’t come between them.

He was a butcher, dried blood under his fingernails, bloody boots, aching muscles.

The typewriter sat on the credenza behind the desk, an idol to tech.

He couldn’t understand, where all the cowboys came from — there wasn’t any open range within five-hundred miles.



  • If the message had been generated by the OS it would mean one thing, but the message had come across the IM client and he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it was succinct: “Fatal Error.”

  • She diced the carrots and added them to the stew, not that anyone would notice, not on a conscious level, but it was her art and it was the art that mattered.

  • Ju always made fresh juice in the morning, part of the routine, grab the fruit, check the fridge for tomorrow’s fruit, then ten, twenty seconds of the mechanical chaos as the juicer beat the fruit into submission, but the juice as it flowed down his throat that he never took for granted, that was never routine.

  • Simply, he was a legend.

  • On the south side of town, on a side street next to the Volvo repair shop, in some zoning hic-cup, The Spot survived, a joint that, to survive, had to survive on the down low.

5 for today

  1. My father’s philosophy came from The Godfather; “never tell anyone what you’re thinking” and “take everything personally” were the big two, so when Uncle Angel told me that the Parrish priest was coming to dinner, I answered respectfully and scratched a big fat hash next to Angel’s name in the ledger.

  2. In Ellie’s family, this particularly unruly Northern Spy orchard outside of Hillsboro was apex of pie fruit, so when her Aunt Elsie called to tell her the apples were in and that there were a couple of bushels waiting and maybe even a pie, we left early, like getting up for work early.

  3. When I invited Jill to dinner, I had no idea, (like she would ever believe that,) that Sally had an agenda, so when the question was thrown down during the main course, and Jill moved her napkin to her mouth, the Clan Menzies might as well as blown the Great Highland Bagpipes.

  4. They slipped out from their desks and met at a bench tucked away in the landscaping overlooking the executive parking lot for a picnic, and it wouldn’t have been topic of conversation, except that the rain was coming down in Mylar sheets.

  5. The jasmine wound itself through the trellis like a charmed snake.


First day is upon us. On 6/20/13 @

First day is upon us. On 6/20/13 @ 22:04 pdt, The sun reaches its highest excursion relative to the celestial equator. From now until December the nights lengthen.

In winter we retrospect and plan, in spring we grow, in summer we tend, in fall we harvest.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the season of responsibility & maintenance. It is the day to celebrate acceptance. A day I meditate on commitment, discipline, strength and focus. Winter comes.    

  • insult

  • code

  • cough medicine

  • olympics

  • general


Ju didn’t realize it was an insult

Ben wondered who had come up with the code.

The bottle of cough medicine was empty.

The L.A. Olympics in 1984 had been the turning point in the negotiations.

The general rule of conduct do not apply.

When he was confused his eyebrows pinched together creating a crease that matched the cleft in his chin, and even though he was still looking at you, he lost focus, and maybe that was why he didn’t realize that it was an insult.

Everywhere codes, zip codes, area codes, De Vinci codes, codes of conduct, but Ben wondered whose sick mind had come up with the hair code.

The hacking cough filled the lightless house, she didn’t want to wake up her mother, yes the cough medicine was gone, but she didn’t want the drama, the hand wringing, the I should of, the I can go; she wanted to be left alone in the comfort of her misery.

As he look out the 12th story window, toward the San Gabriel’s, at the smog blanketing Azusa, he thought of 1984 Olympic planning meeting.

The unofficial Saturday night market, sideshow and outlaw rodeo was a place where the general rules of conduct did not apply, but the norms of behavior were strictly enforced.

  1. Airship
  2. Elizabeth
  3. Evening
  4. Knee
  5. Tablecloth

The airship arrived from Tokyo forty-five minutes late

She swung her knee into Elizabeth’s crotch.

The evening air was thick with jasmine

Her knee peaked out from the hem of the dress.

The tablecloth hadn’t been changed in days.

Ju sat on the purple couch, coffee in hand, cell phone at the ready, watching travelers move through the baggage claim area, waiting for the airship, already forty-five minutes late from Tokyo.

A crowd had gather in the hall, as Susan screamed at her with, spit flying, arms waving, rage, and Elizabeth didn’t see a graceful, or peaceful way out of this mess.

So she took a deep breath from her diaphragm, held it, two, three, four, focused on a spot over Susan’s shoulder for just a moment and then swung her knee from her hip, pulling it to her chest, right through the opponent’s crotch.

Alysan had planted jasmine along the fence, nice touch that, and its scent filled the evening air as Ju listened to his daughter’s tale of “the fight”, and, yes, she was right, she did have the right to protect herself when she felt threatened and it wasn’t a fight, it was self-defense, and you can’t punish someone for defending themselves and it wasn’t excessive, just one kick, and she wasn’t some damsel that had to wait to be rescued, fuck that, oops, sorry daddy.

He hated it when he had to cede control, and she had him in an awkward position, her ground, her questions and that god damned knee peeking out from the hem of her dress.

The tablecloth hadn’t been change in couple of day, not even shaken out probably, toast crumbs, “don’t focus on the toast crumbs;” well, the positive, it was almost over, time to cut his losses and move on down the road. 

Sentences, sentences, sentences

Strong Rose Clever Beef Free Stride

It was now almost three hours after sunrise, as she stood at my office window looking to north, the fog almost dissipated but still substantial, hung just below the ridge; she strode across the room, pulled me from my chair, dragged me to the window and pointed, “that is exactly the color of the smoke that was in the his room last night.”

As the strong wind blew out of the south, the afternoon wind, strong enough to be annoying, drying, annoying, a wind to put you on edge, Ju ran to the dugout, long powerful strides, the strides of youth at its apex, not quite the strides of the mature male yet, but still beautiful, graceful, confident.

Static electricity pricked her finger as it jumped to the door knob, sometimes she was just too clever, and on a cool January night with the Santa Ana’s blowing and wives sitting at kitchen table watching the light reflect off chef’s knife, it didn’t pay to be clever.

As song says, freedom is having nothing left to lose, but as long she was cooking dinner when he came home in the evening, he would never be free and that was a good thing, all things considered.

Neither a friend nor a lover, she lived in limbo, a hot house rose, tender, beautiful.

From Hemingway and Gellhorn:

I know there are two people in me, but the least strong the least demanding, is the one that attaches itself to another human being…Since I was a child people have wanted to possess me. And because our life is so badly managed, I turn upon you, with resentment and bitterness, because you bring it neither order nor tranquility, because you do not make the best of it, either materially or morally, because your discontent is ever present, like a restless dog wandering through the room.

Today’s sentences

Above the fray of techs, in the harsh laboratory light, Ju, in a lab coat and comfortable shoes, paced the catwalk talking with Ben about the gruesome remains being examined on the floor.

He admitted that it was pretty trite but how else to describe the laughter next door other than maniacal.

Ju examined the silver, some tarnished and ancient, some shiny and new that his son poured from a brown paper bag onto the dining room table.

Through the silver sage and coyote brush the madrone, peeling bark revealing the lean muscled trunk, rose.

If he had…if he had been stronger, smarter, something, she wouldn’t be propped up against the boulder, ants floating across her bloodless face.