Archive for the ‘Story’ Category


Monday, October 26th, 2009


This is a photograph of the end of a deserted hallway in a concrete ski lodge. It is very still. The block of elevators are at rest. The overlarge wall mirror echoes an empty corridor of worn grey carpet stretching down the hall. Harsh artificial lighting illuminates the absence, making deep dark hollows daylight will reveal tomorrow. It’s three in the morning and everyone is in their rooms. I took this while on vacation. I do my best work on vacation, because I do not expect familiar, I am open to the possible.

In these absences I take photographs of ghosts. As in this photograph my parents are not there, very persistently not there. My mother, in a long slim dark blue dress with a fake mink brown fur collar, stands stiff with indignation staring straight ahead, stubbornly waiting for the elevator. My father, who looks so sharp and certain in his tailored suit, ignorant in his drunken willingness to please, shifts near her, trying to understand again. The way they argue, like annoying mosquitoes, trying to make their words invisible. She speaks to the elevators, he to his feet.

My Two Story Fall from the Porch

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

We had a five foot square porch off the back of our second story flat on Hill Street in the Mission which had an exceptional open view to the sky and a very passable view of a section of the city. The incident to be related occurred about eight years into living at this flat.

Now over this time our ever frugal landlady had refrained from any non-emergency maintenance because of her dread fear of being taken advantage of unscrupulous handymen, for instance the ones who had painted the house prior to our move in. None the less the house still stood solid, a testimony to the craftsmanship of 1879.