Where I Write

 (Well, at least for the next two weeks, anyway.)

With the exception of the four years I spent at a small college on the east coast, I’ve lived in Chicago all my life. Anyone who grew up in the Midwest, or spent any significant amount of time there in…

I’ve only rarely worried about death.  The one time I actually was dying in a hospital for a while, I wasn’t worried about it. 

The wall in front of the desk is a greenish turquoise. The painters came and finished the whole flat in just a few hours, and you can see where the paint-soaked rag dripped a little.

I moved to Los Angeles a few weeks ago to house-sit for the summer. I drive a borrowed car and have a meager savings. The house is near the Hollywood sign, in the hills,

Across the Missouri River from North Omaha, just east of the intersection of Interstates 29 and 680, a few miles

There is a corkboard here. On it, there is a paper doll of L., a friend from my grad school days. The doll features a pixie haircut, a polka-dot blouse, a pair of men’s pants.

Most often, I don’t. I watch basketball instead. I check my e-mail. I cook dinner and make love to my girlfriend and read magazine articles about the financial crisis. I move constantly, from Brooklyn, New York, to the Pacific coast…