December 2020 B (Day 2)

He's knocking on my door. He's holding a boatload of roses. I'm letting him inside. "I'm sorry," he says. He takes off his shoes and tries on mine. “I have to say,” I say, “I have not seen you in years.” “Last May,” he says. “Last May?” I say. “I was your waiter,” he...

To be honest, Richard, I hate the fucking Dallas Cowboys. Or “Chow-Boys” as you’d say so drawled it’s like your mouth was an engine gunked-up with black gold and well overdue for an oil change. “How about them Chow-boys?” Where did you get that saying, anyways? And...

I was looking so uncommonly fresh that it startled my mom. She’d never seen me like this. (Red jacket, Hawaiian shirt, hat with a bird on it, sunglasses. Great lighting.) “Are you going to a party?” she asked. She sounded hopeful, which stung. I was 30 then, living...

Poor mother, locked away in the Alzheimer’s home, walks around the courtyard garden to hum the hymns she still remembers. I was tidying up, anticipating the arrival of my stepfather, Mr. Bromley. Admittedly, we had waited too long for this discussion, about the will...

Stringer Bell was on The Office once. Hilarious. Well, Idris Elba was. Can you imagine the call to Idris Elba from his agent? From the producers of The Office to Idris Elba's agent? Write THAT. Well, not that. But write something for heaven's sake.