fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
(Editor’s note: Because this story takes place on Thanksgiving Day, I thought it appropriate to repeat it today. A safe and happy Thanksgiving to all from the gar spot.) Originally published January 30, 2012. Grease splattering, water boiling, pots and pans clanking, bodies moving and shuffling, and layered above it all were the voices of the…
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree. It was stately and it was a dome. Rick and I rode the tram around to the other side of the island, a longer ride than I would have expected. But around one final bluff there it appeared, a translucent, geodesic dome at least six stories…
When Barack Obama won the 2008 election, I took to the streets. I wanted to see reactions to this historic moment. I drove to Jack London Square and found a full-on street party. In fact, driving from Oakland to Berkeley I saw people literally dancing in the streets all over. It was a day for…
Our vote is precious. Our vote is sacred. Our vote is our democracy. Please use it. However which way you vote, vote. Don’t let anyone deter or dissuade you. If you are eligible to vote, please vote.
He’s a real Nowhere Man, Sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody. -Lennon/McCartney A thought keeps jostling my head. Mitt Romney is a Nowhere Man, literally. I guess one could say that his record number of flip-flops on the issues make this moniker a given. But I’m not thinking of…
A group of us went to lunch regularly on Thursdays. On this particular Thursday, sometime in 2002 or so, we decided to try the Pakistani-Indian restaurant that moved into the space formerly occupied by Bison Brewery on Telegraph. As we were leaving, we noticed some small white business cards written in English, Arabic, Urdu, and…
