Go to hell and burn

During my senior year of college, I was 22, reading a story about a man drinking alone on his 50th birthday, visited by the ghosts of those he’d killed, presented with no particular interest or revelation concerning whether they’re “real” or not. I sit here now just after my 51st birthday and the story is as good today.

Moses and the Mosquito

It’s 1985, the summer after my second year in college. I wasn’t “away” at college, I’d moved out from home the moment I graduated high school. Unlike many U of Chicago students but like many others, I’d made Hyde Park my home and become more of a neighborhood guy than a cloistered student.