Knives Out

This is part of a dark little series called Fucked Up Ways to Die.  Nick heaved a huge sigh of relief as he pressed the “leave meeting” button on his work zoom call.… Continue reading


This is part of a dark little series called Fucked Up Ways to Die.  She stood under an awning in front of the cute little wine bar in a tiny, dirty alley to… Continue reading

What a Gem

I told this story in front of a live audience at The Moth. The theme was “schooled,” and oh, the lessons I learned.  A lot of people learn about diamonds when they get… Continue reading

To Kill an Ego

This was my first live storytelling experience at The Moth. The theme was divorce. Hilarity, insecurity, and awkwardness ensue. If you’d prefer to watch rather than read, you can see it here. When… Continue reading

Nailed It

I wrote and prepped this story for a live performance at The Moth in San Francisco. The theme was creepy. Well done, Mom. If you prefer to watch rather than read, you can see… Continue reading

“I have les iPhones!”

You know what smart people do when they move to a foreign country? They plan on getting a bank account and a phone in their new country. You know what I did when… Continue reading

Omnipotence Has Its Privileges

He couldn’t take it. He wanted to gouge his eye out. He needed to. He imagined wedging the splintery end of the Starbucks wooden stir stick right underneath his eyeball and jiggling it until it… Continue reading

The Plant Flowers on Dead Relatives’ Graves Tour, 2020

Back in January, I planned all my trips for the year – some great ones that I was really looking forward to, but none more important than the one I began calling the… Continue reading

Everyday Granite

Walmart: kind of an asshole. Apologies in advance if you’re a fan, because you may never shop there again after you read this. At least I hope you won’t. ******* It’s the day… Continue reading

The Best Gift You’ll Ever Give: A New Memory

{About a 2-minute read} I walked through her house and grabbed everything I could fit in my arms. They were just things. Glasses. Scarves. Coffee cups. Pens. But they were her things. The… Continue reading