The Ceramacist

Sara fell in love with a man. He was a competitor in ceramic shark sculpting competitions. And she had serious plans for him. Gutter cleaning, oil changing, take out the trash plans. But she wasn't ready for him yet. She'd have to wait until her tour of duty was over - which wouldn't be for at least another year. She said, "I've got a light inside of me that burns 100 times brighter than most street lamps. Which is 93% brighter than what's inside of most people." I agreed with her. What I disagreed with was her driving. She drove like her father's rage. He always rode in her back seat. And whenever his temper flared or his blood pressure rose, Sara would crash into something - a parked car, a median strip, a trash can. Impending accidents everywhere. Especially on her way to those shark sculpting contests. Everyone at them was very serious. They all wanted to have the most realistic, most biting ceramic shark sculpture. Sara crashed into a concrete island. And then she thought about how badly she wanted to win.

Word to the Mothers

Thank you to the Mothers, you who wipe our faces with your own spit. Thank you for the trays of cookies and teaching us how to sit. Thank you to Mother Magpie who is a bird, Mother Hubbard who always has a kind word, Mother Superior who jumped a gun, Mother Theresa who gives her all but doesn't have much fun, Mother Jones who carries an old purse, Mother Earth who quenched her baby's thirst, Mother-May-I who teaches the q's and p's, and special thanks to you, dear Mother Fucker, for showing us how to do it on our knees.

Orna-Mental Floss

I had my eyebrows threaded today. A first. And how could I say no to a new experience proposed by a large woman with hot wax at her disposal? She said it was only a dollar more than the old, hot method. And at only $8, paying to have an Uzbek woman put thread around her neck and then use it to somehow floss one's face is a real bargain. Stephania, the ironically bearded Uzbek lady, twisted and scraped and gritted her teeth - and elegantly ripped hair out of my brow into a very stylish shape. My eyebrows now echo the tamed beauty of an English garden. So it is with great enthusiasm that I recommend this technique to you, my hairy, swarthy friends.

The Wishes of Fishes

"Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God." - Kurt Vonnegut I've been meaning to mention Peru. There were fish everywhere. Raw fish. Caught by fishermen in the morning. Brought in to the fish markets, sold, sliced and doused in the juices of lemons and limes. All to be eaten before noon. Ceviche - most heavenly food of the sea. This food has effected me deeply. Lately I traveled deep into the sea in dreams. I met a very nice fish there. We talked for while. He recommended a nice red wine, which I thought was very clever for a fish. He told me he had once been a Sommelier when he lived on the West Coast. Next I was seated at a dinner party. The table was filled with young, fashionable people. We all had lovely yellow tuna steaks on our plates. And we drank red wine. The same red selected by the fish - the very one it appeared was also being served upon the plates. The fish had chosen the wine to be had with himself. A very clever fish indeed. If wishes were made by fishes, this fish had made his last one a good one.

Cooking Chicken with Patti Davis

Yes, that's what I was doing until just moments ago - making chicken fried steak, actually - in a garden with my friend kate and patti davis, daughter of ronald and nancy reagan - who had a gift for garden cooking, but was certainly not wearing a bra of any kind. every time she'd lean over to stir the gravy, i'd get a big helping of a now deceased president's daughter's boobs. not very attractive, i might add. it's 4 in the morning. i've taken a sleeping pill, but in the meantime, thought writing in a blog would be the perfect activity for the delirious. oh wait, i think i hear patti davis calling me. she says she also made apple pie! so i gotta go. but if you're still up and in in the mood to travel to outer space, i recommend this to whet your appetite.

A Dad's Story

"This little girl knocked my socks off from the day she was born."

Phone Hug: The Audition

Being an actor is hard work - and auditioning is the worst of it. You have to act like you're in a flaming car crash trapped under shattered glass and metal and a heavy glove compartment that is pinning your legs and the whole car is being crushed by a 300 year old Elm tree with fangs and all you have as an actor at your disposal is a metal folding chair. Here is an auditioning scenario, unlike that just described, yet somehow just as horrible.