Juteau on the Move

Her name is Juteau, although I don’t know if it’s her first name or last. With a name like that, one would think that she was from France or Quebec or Indochina, although I’m not certain if anyone from Laos still speaks French. Not that it matters, really, since she was born in San Diego […]


I want to feel my hands on you. It has taken me ten minutes to write those words. I want to feel your hands on me. It only took a few seconds to write those.

A Letter From a Friend

Dear Kameko: Does every man snore like a Harley now? Did they always do that? I don’t remember them doing it when we were younger. They used to be like movie stars, all muscles and smooth skin and thick hair that felt so good between your fingers. It’s funny how that all changes. I’m out […]

Also Tesla

“My name is Nikola,” he says, his voice touched by a thick accent, something Eastern European that I can’t pinpoint. “Like the inventor, Tesla.” “Do you work much with electricity, Nikola?” I ask. “Hardly, no. I make things, but electricity isn’t usually involved other than to keep the lights on over my head. Please,” he […]


Who is that man sitting across the restaurant from me, in a pinstripe suit, tie, hat and goggles? Yes, goggles. They are pushed up on top of his hat, like he’s just gotten off a 1920s racing motorcycle, and come in to have a quick bite before resuming his cross-country journey. They’re rather fetching, actually. […]


I haven’t been able to get my head in the rewriting game today while at home, and so I’ve gathered up my things and walked down to the coffee shop for a change of scenery. It’s too easy to get distracted in my own space sometimes, and I find that putting myself into a noisy […]


In fifteen minutes, I will be in bed. This day has been one of those which must just be gotten through. I’ve been walking uphill ever since I got up this morning, and nothing has gotten me out of this state of mind which I find myself. Men can be so irritating. I hate feeling […]


What I want to write about is mundane, completely and utterly typical. I want to tell how I was out this evening and saw the Cheese Man outside a restaurant, in the shadows between the streetlights, doing with a woman the very same thing he had been doing with me the other night, and how […]

The Smaller View

I am only interested tonight in things in the macro, in the close-up. I am closed to the bigger picture, to interconnectedness. All that I want is the individual, the broken piece, the tiny flaw. There is a chip in the mirror in my bedroom, a shallow pool of black from which the silver has […]

On the Porch In Stockings

Here is the place that he kissed me, on the lips, and then here again on my cheek, and then here again on the side of my neck, where just below the skin my pulse beat and beat quicker and quicker as his mouth moved over me. There was a roar in my ears like […]