Category Archives: The Three R’s

Chapter 11. Sunlight, nature’s best disinfectant was clearing out the last few doppler shadows…

Sunlight, nature’s best disinfectant, was clearing out the last few doppler shadows bridging the bellicose scenesters and hairspray goblins already on the lurk for the lapsed chances offered to the quick and the dead first and then to the able and the eager still catching up on some great escape plan as they race through […]

Chapter 9. Mediocrity, or powerhouse upstarts never appealed to this writer…

Mediocrity, or powerhouse upstarts never appealed to this writer, my growing penchant for actuality tables in everything that mattered, everything in its rightful place, sported visceral muscle all its own, but I was compelled to the awesome place where rock solid dynasties swooned to the Icarian mysteries a suddenly molecular underdog brought into the scheme, […]

Chapter 8. When my firstborn left home, trimming the mouths to feed

When my firstborn left home, trimming the mouths I had to feed from eight to seven, I cut back from four cups of rice to two. We ate rice nearly every night for years. Sometimes with beans, sometimes with a scrambled meat dish. Lots of casseroles, too. Times were hard. Hello. My name is Peggy. […]

Chapter 7. With this letter to Philip Dare I knew February was turning…

The laws in this city are clearly racist. All laws are racist. The law of gravity is racist. I am making this trip to Africa because Washington is an international city, just like Tokyo, Nigeria or Israel. As mayor, I am an international symbol. Can you deny that to Africa? People have criticized me because my security detail is larger than the president’s. But you must ask yourself: are there more people who want to kill me than who want to kill the president? I can assure you there are. First, it was not a strip bar, it was an erotic club. And second, what can I say? I’m a night owl.

Chapter 6. Three nights before John Lennon was shot dead in front…

Three nights before John Lennon was shot dead in front of the Dakota, and all the fret world mourned el barrio del corpus christi was relatively quiet to the most casual observer, of whom I was one, belly up to a satisfied mind after a quick handful of tacos lengua and a wet burrito at […]