I question the following

The recommendation of 8 hours of sleep

Doing stuff in the daytime and going to bed at night

The regimen of 3 square meals a day

Conventional interior design, such as coffee tables belonging in the living room

The binary in all its incarnations

Standard breakfast items, eg. bagels, bacon, cereal, pancakes — it’s all fat, grease and sugar

Getting married and having kids

The workweek


Looking before you leap

Avoiding conversation with strangers

The psychedelic dentist

I fancied that the large sign mounted on high along Jones Boulevard advertised for a cosmic dentist. A streetlight had obstructed the “et” in the word cosmetic.

The doc himself was pictured alongside the enormous text, laughing, seemingly at me, as if I had purple skin and multiple heads, maybe six eyes.

I sat at the red light and imagined that the doc provided magic mushrooms or peyote to his patients in lieu of laughing gas or procaine.

Booth by the door

I drove by a Japanese steakhouse where I had eaten dinner with an old boyfriend. It was where we had missed the flames flickering recklessly in the hot grease, the vegetables sputtering, the aroma of seasoned meats searing against the hot steal, the chefs’ dazzling sleight of hand.

After almost three years together, increasingly plagued by bickering and resentment, the two of us ended things. We had no more to give. The thing was, we had made no effort to turn it around, even though there was so much potential at the beginning.

In retrospect, it’s clear that we blew a good opportunity to create and enjoy something rewarding, exciting, long-lasting.

At the restaurant, we sat in a booth by the door. We ate and then left generally unimpressed, save for the decor. It was only later that I found out that the restaurant had a back room where all the good stuff happened. Stuff that made the trip worthwhile and memorable: there were teppanyaki tables as well as performing chefs cooking behind an open hibachi.

I wonder if my ex ever went back with someone else.

nosy cats & human sex

Cats notoriously assume they can paw or gnaw at anything that hangs or protrudes.

I can’t have sex while my cat is watching. I have to lock her out of my bedroom before things even get going. Tho she’ll nearly always scratch or push against the door or else start in with her meowing — maybe even break or rip something in another part of the house in retaliation. Just don’t let me hear it, is all I ask in those instances. Continue reading “nosy cats & human sex”


I see a near-constant stream of different women emerging from the apartment unit across from mine. I’m starting to wonder whether it’s a point of entry from a different dimension. Maybe the “women” are teleporting to that location for who knows what reason.

It’s a second-floor unit, and from my dining room window, I often spot them descending the stairs ambivalently into their new environment — just like aliens disembarking their ships via a deployed staircase after landing on a planetary port of call. Continue reading “aliens”