Something about the serenity and pleasant isolation of snow-covered landscapes has lulled me into the memories of driving west through desert landscapes. In that golden hue of sand and agriculture, I'd flip on the radio to keep me company, to keep me awake after 10+ hours of driving through the night. Chasing sunsets, leaving behind sunrises ( Read more... )

After night fell, the smell of rose water. Of old perfume. Mixing with smoke and Bourbon. Young men with southern accents dressing like old men, ordering milk and cookies. And old men carrying tubas in the street as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They say, "Hey baby" and smile. Women with hips and boyish-figured feminine women in ( Read more... )

The trip to SF was full and beautiful. Tron and I went to a performance at the Center for Sex+Culture, went to the MOMA, ate at Weird Fish and Golden Era, caught up with some old friends of mine, went to an incredible wedding at the Rickshaw, ducked into a park, said hello to the tenderloin, went to Berkeley, and on and on and on ( Read more... )

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I sat down on a toilet missing its seat at a rest stop somewhere in the desert. The stall door was missing its lock. On the top right-hand corner of the stall's door, as if written on the corner of a page, was, "I would love to lick your pussy until you orgasm. Nice thick cock. Call or text." And a number ( Read more... )

Goodbye, Denver.

Hello, San Francisco.

(if only for a weekend)
 

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