You Do Hoodoo

OD-ing on Confederate Jasmine Down here in the Lowcountry of South Carolina,I’m suffering the odiferous overloadof Confederate Jasmine in full bloom mode. It smells like a perfume that Edgar Alan Poemight pour all over his Lost Lenore,way too sentimentally sweet this scent of lost causes thankfully lost,an overpowering aroma thatmakes the sweetest, sweet tea seem … Continue reading OD-ing on Confederate Jasmine

Strunk and White on Steroids Hypocrite lecteur,—mon semblable, —mon frère! Baudelaire, “Les Fleurs du mal”  Last night I did something mildly perverse: I fed a commercial Facebook post into my ChatGPT—the same one I use for research, copy editing, and tech triage—and asked it if the copy had been generated by AI. BTW, I refer … Continue reading Strunk and White on Steroids

Yesterday’s being 4/20 and all, I committed a cliche— got confunctificated on cannabis.[1]   As I made my way home on foot from Chico Feo, East Erie Avenue was blessedly empty, which meant I could recite out loud the lyrics looping in what I’ve come to call my mental jukebox. Saying the words—or singing them—is therapeutic, … Continue reading Mental Jukebox Tourette’s Syndrome Disorder (MJTD)

The Old Testament Ain’t the New Testament But It’s Pete Hegseth’s Testamentthe air without refuge of silence,     the drift of lice, teething, and above it the mouthing of orators,     the arse-belching of preachers. Ezra Pound, “Canto XIV” One of the most puzzling paradoxes of the Trump era is the veneration he receives from evangelical Christians—those … Continue reading The Old Testament Ain’t the New Testament, But It’s Pete Hegseth’s Testament

When I was five years old living in Biloxi, Mississippi, I was fortunate enough to contract rheumatic fever, an autoimmune reaction to untreated strep throat that triggers the immune system to rev into overdrive, attacking healthy tissue along with invasive streptococcus bacteria. I say “fortunate” because the disease left no permanent heart valve or joint … Continue reading The Joys of Invalid-hood

I’ve come up with the male equivalent of “resting bitch face,” that sexist slight used to describe women who don’t dutifully beam sun-splashed smiles as they slog through yet another day of taxing responsibilities. Unfortunately, my term for the male equivalent—resting ogre face—aptly describes—to echo Eliot’s “Prufrock”—the face I prepare to face the faces that I … Continue reading Resting Ogre Face

This is an excerpt from Too Much Trouble, a stand alone sequel to my novel Today, Oh Boy. In this scene, high school sweethearts Ollie Wyborn and Jill Birdsong, college freshmen home for Christmas after their first semester, meet for pool hall hotdogs in Hutchinson Square in downtown Summerville, SC. It’s the first time they’ve … Continue reading An excerpt from my upcoming novel TOO MUCH TROUBLE

I’ve submitted this one minute video entitled Edge Connections for an art show in Charleston. If accepted it would play in a loop projected on one of the walls of the gallery. The audio would be provided by the curator. The theme is Folly Beach Noir, the Edge of America. Click on the box below … Continue reading Submission for Beeple Art Show

Well, here I go again—only three months after lamenting the death of my high school buddy Adam Jacobs, now mourning the death of another of our crew, Jack McDonough, who died unexpectedly last week in Asheville.  Unlike, Adam, whom I hadn’t had seen in this century, I was lucky enough to hang with Jack each … Continue reading In Memory of Jack McDonough

I’m rereading Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Stories, a collection of semi-autobiographical, first-person narratives recalling his years in Nazi Germany before the war. The most famous of these pieces, “Sally Bowles,” later became the source for the musical Cabaret, dramatizing a reckless Englishwoman’s decadent sojourn in the German capital. As Hitler gears up his war machine (at least he had … Continue reading A Winter of Discontent

Too Much Trouble BOOK I Chapter One: Goings and Comings Thornwell Dormitory, the University of South Carolina, 22 December 1972  Crisscrossing his dorm room, Rusty Boykin wads up clothes and shoves them into a sour-smelling duffel bag. He leans over and snatches his two-tone cowboy shirt from the floor, the one with fake pearl snaps, … Continue reading Too Much Trouble – Sneak Preview