Over lunch at Carrabba's last Sunday I said to my husband, "A gay priest once admitted that half of all priests are gay."  I said this while watching a table at which sat two gay men, obviously gay men, men who would be incapable of walking and talking to convince me otherwise.  I was astounded when he who crosses himself every time we pass a Catholic church replied, "I believe that.  I don't think anyone is born having to sin and these men probably choose the priesthood to…

Long ago I joined a Catholic forum.  I don't know why.  I regularly receive their emails and occasionally follow the question links to annoy myself and marvel at insanity, questions like:  Is it okay to baptize dead babies?  There are questions about priests having pets, whether five children are enough, what the difference is between accepting holy communion and cannibalism and why does God have feelings and I gotta tell you, the questions annoy but the answers enrage me every…

Barely conscious, Ryan Lang left his apartment each morning at 6:00 am with a Mel's plastic bag in hand, glanced at Katrina De Luca's door on his way to take Max for a walk around the block and past Bob's Exotic Flowers where the dog routinely had a bowel movement.  

Ryan knew Katrina only from chance encounters at the mail boxes in their building, Mel's sandwich shop where they self-consciously waved, and from watching when she was unaware; he watched her water and sing…

I love...

...the smell of patchouli, Nag Champa incense, sex, rain, puppy breath, Paloma Picasso perfume.

...the taste of dark chocolate with bits of expresso, pepperoncini, salty cashews, smooth almond butter, that first…

Howard is a fire-breathing 400 year old bear with a criminal history listed in the Guiness Book, an escape artist that no prison can hold.  He is hypersexual and not only for girly bears, but girly humans, male humans, cats, frogs, toasters - he doesn't care.  He steals, lies, cheats, and eats only bad carbs (a gallon of peppermint ice cream an hour habit which cools his chronic heart-less-burn). …

G was chubby with strawberry blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses, a warm cheerful presence who lived in an always messy house unanimously voted most fun because there were few rules and more children than adults, a freedom that smelled like fried food, Marlboro Lights and dirty socks. 

C was half Japanese, a poised only child with long thick hair and a bedroom saturated with Hello Kitty, white ruffles and gymnastics trophies.  Her retired military father…

I write the weirdest shit when I drink.  Sometimes I save it in drafts then find the embarrassing evidence days later, like earrings or underwear you don't remember taking off.  Just before alcohol rolls me into a drooling retching ball it woos my leaning weight to the computer where tipsy fingers stumble around, hitting the backspace every other stroke.  Some writers can't write unless they've had "a little", like it's both a truth and creativity serum.  Maybe I feel more…

MSN reported the following words spoken hours or moments before death:

Elvis Presley's response when his fiance' told him not to fall asleep in the bathroom, "I won't."

Saddam Hussein, "I swear there is no God but Allah and Muhammad."

Mother Teresa, "I love you Jesus...I love you, Jesus."

Joe DiMaggio, "I finally get to see Marilyn."

When…

For many years Barbara Kingsolver had a file cabinet labeled "Damned Africa Book" because no matter how hard she tried not to write the book, it continued to haunt her and grow.  This went on for almost twenty years, her tossing notes, clippings and character outlines into the cabinet just to keep the stirring life form quiet.   Her husband told her, "Just write the book as far as you can, and when you reach a point where you have to see Zaire to keep going, we'll get you there", so…

He can be a freak at the grocery store, one minute a Zen angel then a bull on methamphetamine.  He pulls this stunt at Whole Foods, no less, which is where Buddha actually shops (Jamaican with dreadlocks this life).  Remember, one has to make it from the entrance through the maze of aisles then to check-out and back to the car which believe me, takes the skill of a rodeo clown and the patience of Job, of ten Jobs with a continuous morphine IV drip.  Today was one of those…

He spends his days stretching string between trees in his yard, hanging birdseed from its center to test squirrel intelligence.  He drinks a bit, admits to being an alcoholic, but manages his habit well by taking care of all important business before that first drink in the afternoon.  When I was in my late twenties I realized I didn't know much about my father, about his childhood or history and I suddenly needed to know these things.  We lived almost three hundred miles apart so I began…

His bedroom smells sweet though his sheets have not been washed since his wife died.  That was almost eight months ago.  He wanted to preserve her smell.  He also saved her panties, her voice on the answering machine, three bedrooms full of designer clothes, sex tapes they made together, her modeling portfolio, makeup, wigs and bottles full of codeine and Valium obtained from several different doctors to manage the pain of endometriosis, the pain of being Diana.  Her death was…

There were three hours to kill before my nephew's wedding in Azle, Texas so I stopped for lunch at a marina & RV Park on Liberty School Road.  The West Bay Grill wasn't just a diner but a management office for the marina, a convenience store, a hangout for RV travelers and home for those who lived in trailers on an adjacent hill.  Michelle and Jackie waited tables at the diner and cooked "the best burgers in town" while Amy ran the management office and store, but they seamlessly…

Rooster and Debbie are newly married and just out of prison.  "They got into drugs real bad," my sister whispers about the couple as we dress for my nephew's wedding at Azle's A & M Gardens alongside the noticeably pregnant bride-to-be who is lighting a cigarette and wearing only a bra, panties and cowboy boots.  "Toby and Bridget are helpin' 'em out, lettin' 'em stay in their garage," she finishes as I observe the tattooed forty-six year-old Debbie across the room, drinking…

Two new members of Pen Ten Scribes (no blogs posted which is always suspicious) have sent out a slew of "comments" to members asking for personal email correspondence - Princess Kabokole and Tata Hakam...  Princess says in her profile that she is from Dakar Senegal, the westernmost city on the African mainland and location of the U.S. Embassy.  If you have any further information please share but in the meantime I suggest you ignore anything like the…