Los Angeles based writer, specializing in American idioms, tropes, and pig latin.
I wish we all still had regional accents.
“Heya Halai!” “Brother welcome!” A group of long haired Americans in various beige linens stood in a circle, around a fire. Someone had, and was playing, a drum. They moved towards each other, and stepped back, their arms and upper bodies billowing with the movement. The group expanded and contracted like they were breathing, like they were one thing.
There Will Be Porcelain
"Like a bull in a china shop!" I overhear the conversation of two passing strangers. I wonder if this had ever actually happened. Had a bull ever been in a china shop? Who let it in? In what time and place were there shops dedicated to just china, and in which of these situations were there also so many bulls wandering around that they were ending up in people's shops?
Wandering and the Things it Wants
"I've got the world in my pocket, wherever I go!" I walk the block, and then the adjacent one, and then the one perpendicular to that. Sometimes I make up a pattern like this, and repeat. A feeling comes over me that this is exactly like a dream I had, but I can't remember it now. Maybe this is a place I've walked before.