My great-grandmother’s woven basket—a trove the size of a bread loaf—brimming with spare buttons. The wood door to her sewing room ajar. Her threaded Singer perched like a hummingbird amid patterned fabric and spools.

The flour on her wood cutting board and maple rolling pin in the kitchen. The smell of confection, like gingerbread and breakfast muffins.

Her Sunday stroll to the corner store with her button-front smock, and her slow return to her apartment on the third-floor.


After you solve a Rubik’s Cube and then develop a high level of proficiency for it, what is the point of keeping it around other than to gloat? Perhaps it affords us a feeling of control. Maybe people solve puzzles because they can’t figure out life, so it is somewhat understandable why someone would frame a jigsaw or leave a Rubik’s Cube perpetually solved — sometimes in plain view in their homes or places of employment.


At the call center, customers contact us to come clean.

As if inside a confession booth, I can hear the muffled voices of fellow billing representatives through my cubicle walls as they dispense atonement advice for callers’ offenses:

  • Greed — Not paying a bill
  • Laziness — Not paying a bill
  • Wrath — Ripping a bill into tiny shreds or getting snarky with a rep
  • Envy and Lust — Wishing their balances were not so high
  • Pride — Gloating that their payments are extremely affordable
  • Gluttony — Ordering out or otherwise using bill money as discretionary income

Customers’ penance could include activating payment reminders, signing up for easy pay and getting current on late fees.

Mr. Mustachio

Mr. Mustachio is basically a walking / talking, bristly & dark-haired mustache who is debuting a cable TV show.

A round beverage coaster who wears a sombrero on occasion, his show will be titled, Drinks Are On Me. He will discuss cocktails and other mixed libations during segments, which will be filmed on a kitchen table.

He also will share stories about the times he’s had at the 24/7 dive bar in Las Vegas where he used to work, until a customer slipped him into his pocket and brought him home, where he is now, unfortunately, used primarily for coffee, tea and sometimes domestic beer when friends are over.

Overall, the show is a way for Mr. Mustachio to relive the days (and nights) that he loved so much while working at the bar.


You can see as I stir it looks like chocolate pudding before cooling and setting.
You can hear it sounds like water when you’re alone in a quiet tub (high-caliber audio via parabolic reflector).
What it looks like is this after it’s baked: (closeup of sedimentary rock, the color of clay pot).
As for texture, think of a hunk of banana-walnut bread.

It was something I enjoyed eating so much that I constructed this hut using this material.
And now I am sitting here in lotus position, passing it on like a sort-of Siddhartha.

Notes on grackles

Grackles engrossed in nonstop quibbles like tweens in a schoolyard. Their predatory clamber across tree bark, clawing like cats on carpet. Grackles and the way that they crow and cackle! Torpedoing from bush to rock to tree to fountain, dumpster-diving, whizzing past your head like P-140 bombers. Fluttering low like bats in Victorian homes, perched on hilltops and awash in fog and sickly lamplight, their nefarious flight charged with purpose, bulging from their green button eyes.