I'm wearing a pair of shimmery gray athleisure shorts, probably Reebok. Bare legs and feet slipped into a weathered and well loved pair of Birkenstocks.


The room is like any other. A menagerie of puke-toned patterns and vertigo-causing textures


Sitting flamboyantly on the faux leather bench just inside the doorway to this fancy Panera, waiting patiently to be seated, I wait for about forty-five minutes watching others flow in and out of the restaurant, being seated, served then ushered out.


Last night I had a dream that promised to reveal the secrets of the universe, but instead only made me feel like a fool. Perhaps below the surface beyond what I could perceive there was the meaning of the universe...


I’m running, from something, not sure what, but it’s something and not someone.


I approached my personal residence, carrying two brown paper bags from the Barbur Boulevard Fred Meyer’s grocery store.


When I got home that day and David told me what had happened, and why George was at fault for David and I losing our parts in the new movie, I saw red. Pure red.