You know, I was once young and dumb (as opposed to the current old and dumb version), which led me to make a questionable decision that resulted in a very memorable car ride.
Month: January 2018
Staring at Death: A Tale of Two Passengers
The young guy was fired up. Not at me. But at Arabs. He was Hispanic American and he let me know in no uncertain terms that he hated Arab Uber drivers. He lives in an apartment complex, and, apparently, they have canceled on him a few times when they couldn't find his apartment and he couldn't …
Staring at Death — A Tale of Two Passengers
The young guy was fired up. Not at me. But at Arabs. He was Hispanic American and he let me know in no uncertain terms that he hated Arab Uber drivers.
Do Women Influence Men Positively?
A lot of guys in relationships secretly yearn for more independence. But is this level of freedom actually good for them?
Adding New Category Pages
I've decided to add new Category pages to display some of my writing and possibly guest authors (Writing) and short random thoughts that will be found under Musings. You can find these new pages up in the Navigation Menu.
Fungible Love, 1986 — Flash Fiction
A piece of flash fiction exploring the unpredictability of sudden romance.
Fungible Love, 1986
You took my hand, and we slipped away from Karen’s party like we’d known each other forever. Later, I scribbled down my number, then a lingering, predawn kiss at your front door. All week I lived on memories. Brown, pliable curves and wine-dark nipples stiffening under the brush of my fingertips. My phone sat stubbornly …
Car Swimming — Flash Fiction
“Thanks,” he croaks. His unnatural gyrations are freaking me out. I ease the car into traffic. He babbles about hiding from the police. I’m brimming with a host of different emotions. His right elbow bangs sharply against the passenger window. “Stop thrashing around.” “Sorry,” he mumbles. But he can’t stop, limbs flailing with the frantic …
Car Swimming
“Thanks,” he croaks. His unnatural gyrations are freaking me out. I ease the car into traffic. He babbles about hiding from the police. I’m brimming with a host of different emotions. His right elbow bangs sharply against the passenger window. “Stop thrashing around.” “Sorry,” he mumbles. But he can’t stop, limbs flailing with the frantic …
I’m Sorry. Did you Say Anal Warts?
Spoiler alert. This post is about to get nasty. Delicate souls should stop reading now because no good will come of it. Trust me, you won't be enlightened, just horrified. Now you Schizer fans, well, pull up a chair and make yourselves comfy.
Tales from the Land Manatee 