“I can’t get enough of de Kooning.” It was my first thought when I opened my eyes. In the summer of 1977 I was sleeping on a floor in my friend’s cottage in Venice…

The past two days I have been stopped at the front door of interviews for positions for which I was entirely qualified three times because I wouldn’t work all of the posted part-time hours.…

A guy who was in the rooms when I first set out doing the sober thing was always saying, “I don’t know nothing about nothing.” It took me two years to realize he wasn’t…

What do I need money for beyond the obvious? — peanut butter, coffee, some food, gasoline. I have enough books, and my ragged clothes are exactly the rags the Buddha wore strolling back into…

I was happy with the seven-part story that unfolded here these past seven weekdays, none of which I prepared or expected. It simply fell out. And especially with that most interesting married couple. I…

Then Weymouth hopped off the stool, dragged it back over to the counter at the no-longer-boarded-up plate-glass. Connie stood, reached for Weymouth’s hand, and they turned and walked back out the coffee shop’s door.…

“Try these on for size,” said Weymouth, “maybe crank over those napping brain cells.” —– They took turns: “It took me a long time to find out about money. You either have it or…

Weymouth clears his throat, but it’s Connie saying, “Did you hear the one about the guy who strolls into the Monday morning credit union and has his credit card shredded? Because his life is…

Weymouth looked down at me. “We hear you’re looking to rent a place over in the Northeast,” he said, “in the wealthiest part of town.” I nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. And that would be…

Out from the coffee shop, Friday morning lilacs, white, spring following the kid up the coast. Crossing state lines, sweet April’s faint fragrance. So quiet, even these words conjure hush. And yet, tick tick tick…….…