Esés and Excerpts
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“I work in a big tent bureaucracy, where armed Neanderthal clowns prance about freely spewing forth misogyny, thinly veiled race-hate and bible speak; where horribly untrained therapeutic trapeze artists attempt feats far beyond their intellectual and clinical capacity and fall flat on their faces in front of the slightly amused masses; where that famed slick…
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Dateline 23 October 2014 El Sereno, CA aka University Hills aka East Los aka Hollenbeck (HOBK) Division RD #437. Destination: Henderson, NV. Lake Mead. Event: The Pumpkinman Triathlon, a drop in the bucket compared to the usual tri fare: A 1/2mi swim, 12.4 mile ride and 3.2 mile run through some prime NV lakeside real…
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And it’s all gone quiet in the city. The minions have genuflected. Democracy didn’t die in darkness; it was slowly tortured to death in broad daylight. While the world watched. Now this wasn’t a slow reckoning realization. It was what Gen Xers would call a V8 moment. (Which hearkens back to the gas belching V8…
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May 11, 2019 It’s a week before vacation starts. I am working, running an errand on the clock. I am at 6th and San Pedro flowers for Mother’s Day. It is a scented alley lined with caged walls. People milling about and haggling over daisies, sunflowers, roses, hydrangeas, tulips and irises. The array is reminiscent…
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A couple weeks ago, we said a final farewell to Henry. The kids and close family came over. There was a simple ceremony and we interred his ashes in the cactus garden in front of the house. What’s left of Henry’s now lies buried beneath the great Ammak tree…the one grandpa planted so many moons…
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August 5,2019 He came to me handicapped but happy. His name was H3NRY, a front leg amputee. He used the remaining leg for balance and to make progress both forward and backward, situation depending. He found me by word of mouth and the Internet. Mariah Greenberg-Roncetti had recently started doing Dog’s work making regular pickups…
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the loneliest times are spent like this: eating alone in familiar restaurants with the smell of sawdust, baked meat and hot bread reminiscent of some childhood innocence and grace long lost and never found again. the loneliest times are spent dropping quarters into the parking meter scowling the L.A. skyline and cringing as the sway…
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[Preface: Admittedly, a different man wrote this so many moons ago. I was prompted to resurrect it because I heard through the digital grapevine that one of my grammar school classmates died recently. Morgan McKnight. I don’t know what happened. I just know that as a mental health professional I used to think the worst…
Difficult To Cure 