Bookshelf
From the Blog:
And there’s such a funny meter to the roar of his repeater how they run
In 1971, I left my mother and little sisters in Tempe and flew to the Bay Area alone to spend the summer with my father in Oakland. We’d moved from Berkeley the summer before, so I hadn’t seen him in what felt like a very long time, all of third grade – he felt like a...
He got himself a homemade special
At about the same time I outgrew children’s books, I became addicted to detective novels. In many ways, they’re the adult version of children’s adventure stories – instead of going off on adventures in giant peaches or in boats or behind the wardrobe, there’s a crime...
Somewhere a-walking after midnight searching for me
At 29, I was a bit like Dingo when I first got him: skinny, skittish, unsure of how to behave, wild, afraid to trust, and most comfortable on the street. I’d been in New York for more than two years and had never had a nice meal in a good restaurant. I had been living...