hothotheat

The things that break my heart are unpredictable and strange. They aren’t obvious or loud. They aren’t the things you might expect. They’re small things. Words on a page. Words are never very long. A grown up man working in a teenage girls’ department store. The specific stillness of an apartment between the hours of […]

headshot.

I hate being in front of the camera—and not like those people who say they hate being in front of the camera and then strike a dramatic pose whenever the opportunity arises. I mean—I really hate it. That’s why I waited until just about the last possible minute to shoot the photo that will appear in […]

some kind of warmth.

Amanda picked me up early yesterday morning and we set out with a full agenda (take photos for my book jacket, talk over possible revisions for our manuscript, catch up on each other’s lives, etc) that included a breakfast stop at my favorite place in Santa Monica, Huckleberry. After that we walked up and down […]

the first sentence.

  I lived in New York for four years and never really fell in love with it. There are parts I love, sure, like the Bethesda Fountain and the three archways under the terrace in Central Park. The Audubon Center in Prospect Park. The Green-Wood Cemetery. And there are streets I love, blocks I love, […]

photo story/ a couch in midtown.

  Amanda and I spilled an entire bottle of wine in our apartment and I remembered somebody on our street had put an old leather loveseat on the side of the road. I gave a dollar to a homeless man to get him to leave. In retrospect, I’m glad the couch didn’t have bedbugs. November […]