The house teeters above you in a nimbus of red light. A pillar of cracked, uneven steps capped by burning jack-o-lanterns ends at the front door, where cackles and howls animate the night air. “A real witch lives there,” the boy next to you...
Topics: Childhood hangover

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It was one of those conversations that I'm tired of having, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. Mr. Trinkle and I were standing against the wall at the Fox Theater in Oakland, this over-the-top restored venue from the late 1920s, drinking our...
Topics: Childhood hangover

{"title":"Living proof at my fingertips","post_url":"http:\/\/www.writingtosurvive.com\/files\/living_proof_at_my_fingertips.php#unique-entry-id-183","feed_url":"http:\/\/feeds.feedburner.com\/writingtosurvive","author":"mybloglog2bd232cf6885d14acb8c","date":"2009-10-24 19:14:19","summary":"It was one of those conversations that I'm tired of having, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. Mr. Trinkle and I were standing against the wall at the Fox Theater in Oakland, this over-the-top restored venue from the late 1920s, drinking our..."}

Here was the scene: my four-year-old son wearing a pair of old high heels, a canary-yellow birthday party hat on his head, grasping a sword in either hand. It was another one of his many guises, a funny mix of feminine and masculine, underpinned by the.
Topics: The kid

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Surely there are hidden meanings everywhere, waiting to be uncovered. This was my hypothesis when I started my latest self-improvement project “Barbara’s Weekly Epiphany.” All I had to do was approach the world with a childlike sense of.
Topics: Blogs & bloggers, Fiction

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In my dreams, the dead are silent. I’ve never had a good conversation with a single one of them, just offer my apologies, bake the bread, pour the coffee. What is the guilt about? The dead no longer care about my transgressions. Isn’t it...
Topics: The struggle

{"title":"Prognostication","post_url":"http:\/\/www.writingtosurvive.com\/files\/prognostication.php#unique-entry-id-180","feed_url":"http:\/\/feeds.feedburner.com\/writingtosurvive","author":"mybloglog2bd232cf6885d14acb8c","date":"2009-10-12 11:29:15","summary":"In my dreams, the dead are silent. I’ve never had a good conversation with a single one of them, just offer my apologies, bake the bread, pour the coffee. What is the guilt about? The dead no longer care about my transgressions. Isn’t it..."}