Can a cold knock an otherwise sensible person into a prolonged state of anxiety? Perhaps, at least in my case. And why? This has been a matter of some discussion in these blog pages. I maintain that the stamina-sucking properties of the common cold are just enough to push me into something closer to reality. Which is that my life energies are in an unusually critical supply, any drain is noticeable, and with an eye toward age and so on, I am completely fucked. And if this sounds a bit cavalier and Read more [...]

Only a lunatic would spend this, the first spring-like day in a relatively cold California winter, musing upon his failings in the garden. But, what the hell, I am on a neurotic roll, and why stop a bad thing? Actually, my complaint, or my situation, is even worse. But I digress. And in fact, I am so confused that I may not digress enough. So, back to the garden. That's where it all started, isn't it? And, no, we're not talking Eden. No, I was recalling a period at the end of what can be laughingly Read more [...]

Thing about a cold, everything shrinks. Horizons narrow, walls close in. Energies focus…there is that. There is probably something else, but I forget what it is. For that is the other thing, the unapologetic absence of caring about certain things. Part of the shrinking horizons. The thing that doesn't shrink, of course, is one's mucous membranes. That thing, or things, takes over like a 1950s horror film scourge. It creeps, it slithers, it expands. The enlargement of things that itch and drain Read more [...]

Who put the 'temp' in Tempe? It is everywhere, this sense of the temporary. This university town, the main suburb to the west of Phoenix, is home to my sister and brother-in-law. So, what is there to do but visit? Especially on a February day of warmth, dining al fresco, reading in the afternoon brilliance of the hotel's Spanish-style courtyard. And relishing this, my life. I am caught up in Leo Litwak's novel 'Home for Sale.' I wish it had not slipped out of sight, as all of my possessions do. Read more [...]

When I rolled off the little stage at Mountain View City Hall a couple of days ago my fall must be measured in more than inches. As must my tumble out of the wheelchair and its unsightly forehead skinning. In rolling away from the lectern, as it were, I had this brief sense that perhaps all was redeemed. Yes I had been shot. Paralyzed for 45 years. Missed out on a thing or two. Spent my life abnormally rooted, tethered and confined. But now, it seemed, perhaps not for nothing. For in this brief instant Read more [...]

Bixby pads into the kitchen, head down, paws advancing. I, making an espresso from my home machine, watch. Something of note occurs with me and Bixby and the kitchen. I am particularly aware of his fixations. Being a dog, his world is smaller, more primitive, and one might argue, more pure. I am tuned into this canine event, the one transpiring on the kitchen linoleum. For I have seen it many times, and it speaks to me. It may be saying the wrong things, or I may be hearing the wrong things. Nonetheless, Read more [...]