Category Archives: Genius

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 5. It was a story told by my mother to Paul that grabbed…

It was a sto­ry told by my moth­er to Paul over tea and cook­ies and I believe some inel­e­gant cheese that grabbed me by the Saskatchewans, pitch­ing me into a fever dossier and a full count I am prob­a­bly still suf­fer­ing con­sec­u­tive­ly this very day, near­ly sev­er­al thou­sand dawns of Cool­ing Earth lat­er. Why had she nev­er men­tioned this before. […]

Chapter 1. Never fails. Another fat day in the frat boy war…

Nev­er fails. Anoth­er fat day in the frat boy war zone, lov­ing­ly called The War Zone in some parts of the Deep South, finds the smil­ing pres­i­dent slid­ing anoth­er five fin­ger dis­count speech into the Mid­dle­sex Amer­i­can Saw­buck Party’s spend­ing habits, and it seems he’s tak­ing no pris­on­ers with this one. Tweet, tweet. Some prayers […]

About The Author

From the ear­li­est episodes of my life, I was always sure to be found read­ing, writ­ing, doo­dling, orga­niz­ing, and with the most alge­bra­ic of pur­pos­es, goof­ing, inter­ro­gat­ing, ready­ing, doubt­ing, resist­ing, stalk­ing and prepar­ing the way for an artis­tic life not so much of grandiose deeds, but of exiled sup­po­si­tions wash­ing up against the keen but jagged […]