Memoir

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The Flip Side of This Side of Paradise by

He had been expecting me. He’d been waiting for me. He wondered (because I was ten minutes late) if I’d had any trouble finding the house. He asked me to clean my shoes on the rug in the hall. I did as he asked, vigorously shuffling my shoes across the rough rug. He asked to see the bottom of my shoes. Slightly humiliated, but desperately in need of a place to live, I held on to the banister at the bottom of the stairs so that I could raise each shoe for his close inspection. He then asked me to wipe my shoes again.

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Surfing the Cesspool by

I’m secretly terrified of waking up one day, frozen stiff in the saddle–a hunch-backed, keg-bellied, bullet-eyed 59-year old jerk with a wicked/sad comb-over who has just spent the last 20 years bingeing on Pringles and pull tabs and second-rate pleasures, wondering how things could have slipped away like this.

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Shot Down by

My good friend Luke and I were at the Red Stag in NE, Minneapolis, tossing back a couple cold ones when I noticed that there were a couple of young ladies making eyes at me. Now, I’m a man and half-narcissist, but I know enough to let them come to me. After our third beer, […]