Category: Self Indulgent Mémoire

Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon

So I had these kids (to be honest, my wife had them, I watched) eighteen years ago and after taking care of them, doing long stints as the primary caregiver, I eventually graduated to the status of medical and after

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire, Uncategorized

Fascism isn’t the Future; The Future will be Shiny and Weird

So I know it’s hard. The president obstructed justice, or maybe he’s just too stupid to be president, or both, is what we got out of the Comey hearings. The congressional GOP won’t care until their base starts threatening second

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire, Ugly Partisan Politics

Reading Out Loud

About eight years ago, I started reading out loud to my two boys. My wife started the job, using board books, picture books from the library. At some point we stopped being selective, we’d just grab a fifty pound stack off the

Posted in Making a Writing Life, Self Indulgent Mémoire

On Graphic Design

I’ve made the bulk of my income over the years as a graphic designer; during the tech bubble, graphic design got mixed up with software development and ‘information architecture’ and User Experience and Branding and became briefly valuable and deeply

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire

Maybe. If he lost the glasses.

So it’s 2 am and I’m not sleeping so I wanted to share something that has been going through my head since my younger son got his contact lenses last week, a little story I told him, which I now

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire

The Elusive Beauty of the Thing

I have one of those memories of being a kid, one of those curated memories, that you still have because you’ve been taking it out and looking at it, every now and then, your whole life. I’m five or six

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire

Getting Something Out of It

When I was a tech entrepreneur, I had a boss who liked to say, about working for his web-based startup company, that you got out of it what you put into it. Yeah. I know. But I fell for it.

Posted in Making a Writing Life, Self Indulgent Mémoire

Colorful, Collectible Pain from the Past

A friend told me that the word nostalgia means, literally, pain from the past. For me it is a mixture of pain and pleasure, celebration and regret. As I raise my children, I find myself mining the library, and the

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire

New Year’s Revolution

I liked the sound that of that title. Not sure what it means exactly, but I like it. I see Dick Clark in a Che t-shirt. I guess it’s an android Dick Clark. Or maybe it’s the guy above there.

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire

My Favorite Year

2013 is the year when it changed for me as a writer. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. I joined three peer group workshops in 2012, B-spec, Griffins and Mechanics (led by Michael McComas who teaches SF at

Posted in Self Indulgent Mémoire