I'm a Hollywood, CA native who writes fiction, plays, essays & poetry. A common theme of mine is embracing your youness by not following the fold.
Also, I'm a TV/film actor & mixed media artist.
My book is out! -> https://amzn.to/3xL4hMI
Stanley Gets His Wish
Stanley has set his eyes on Anna. Stanley thinks loudly to himself, this woman with her thick Ukrainian accent and tight-fitting clothes. She is perfect. I want her to love me forever. And I would want nothing more out of life.
The Avon Lady is Calling
When I was a kid, my ema (mom) loved buying me dresses. I despised dresses. Ema would have preferred that I, like her, adored all things frilly and girly. But I preferred jeans, tank tops, and my Matchbox car collection. I even had that cool organizer for the cars that was shaped like a tire! Man, I loved that thing. I also loved popping wheelies on my bicycle, climbing my favorite tree, and karate classes. I never felt terribly moved by ema’s pleas for me to wear a dress. I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like and I was as headstrong as she was. She did occasionally bribe me though. I’m pretty sure I got a Snoopy Snow Cone machine after wearing a frilly pink number at Passover one year. It was worth it. Snow cones are magic. I did catch her a few times shake her head from side to side and wonder out loud, I would have loved to have a beautiful dress when I was your age.
A car too purple A sky too wet sometimes it’s all too much. but other times oh those sweet, sweet other times those other times
Is It Hot in Here?
It’s the summer of 1998 and I’m watching Heather as she lies naked on her sundeck typing away on her laptop, sipping a wine spritzer, and singing along to her clock radio.
When Opportunity Knocks
It was a snowy day in Cleveland. I sat alone in my much-too-large-for-only-one-person-apartment, wondering. Wondering entirely-too-intensely-about-everything-I-could-think-of. Has anyone ever died from eating non-cooked Toll House cookie dough? How long would it take to save up enough lint to make a sweater? Would George Clooney like me? If my neighbor started secretly feeding my cat Fancy Feast would Ms. Fluffypants desert me for the better meal? If I had a significant other in my life would I be boring him to tears with my ponderings?
Do you remember our drives to the sea? Singing to the oldies station in your Dodge Dart. Dry heat in triple digits, grateful for the AC,
The Great Freak-Out
It was 2:00 in the morning when Richard got the grand idea. He wanted to write. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to write. A poem, a novel, a screenplay, a letter, a memo — it didn’t matter. Richard had to write and he had to do it now. His girlfriend sleeps soundly beside him as he carefully crawls over her to get his laptop. A writer’s best friend, the laptop. Reliably ever-present and awaiting your next burst of literary genius. A writer’s worst enemy, a constant reminder that you never seem to have any bursts of literary genius.
The Saddest Fruit Bowl
you say you want peace who doesn't? madmen, maybe but we are not mad some of us are not even men a bowl of apples and figs