This blog entry started out as a simple comment, a reply to other reader comments on Walter Mencken’s second installment of “S.D. on the Q.T.,” which still seems to invite discussion of its literary form, a bit rare in the …

Mica and I were touched by a neighbor's plight after I saw flyers up all over Banker’s Hill with pictures of a beautiful cat with big aquamarine eyes, snuggled close in the partially visible, bare shoulders and arms of her …

Mica has something to confess to you, Stella. He typed this out earlier as a surprise to cheer me up, thinking that if Stella could write like anycat's business, then surely he could knock off a six-toed missive or two …

Pike: a boon! Let us slow down and take another completely pointless yet painstakingly careful looksee at this blog’s runner-up, for it is in the margins and the marginalia that the point has a chance of re-vealing itself. It is …

List in this direction, mateys! Thanks to Pike and his “I like lists” blog title—It’s a REAL list blog! Share your list here with utter abandon: List your passions, list your hatreds; list your groceries; list your past loves. List …

It was eight years ago, another quietly sunny September morn, bland but for the start of that back-to-school bite in the air, and we were together all day. You called out from the next room, just as I was waking …

I love shoes, and as a couple of Reader bloggers know, I love to wear a pair of metallic gold summer flats, purchased for a song at Payless. Alas, I might as well mail them off to magics, as for …

I started my morning after fasting for a capsule endo, dehydrated, still blearily riding a dream wave of guava-orange juice, hash browns, and lemon curd on toast. At the gastroenterologist’s office, a nurse fastened me to ten or so probes—chest …

The night before I am sitting at the computer, when the giant grips my abdomen, rapping hard knuckles across my limbs. The attack lasts about sixty seconds, here and gone with the severity of a lightning bolt. Once it flows …

Banker’s Hill is the skull on the hill, shaken and pounded by arrival and departure. Bones of sturdy Victorians, peeled, abraided, and painted down into preserved sites of heritage, rise stiffly into historical markers among clipped grass plots. Increasingly, these …