Just as the cigar-colored sky began to transmogrify into the grey light-haze that passed for night in L.A., my mother's '64 Chrysler New Yorker began choking to death on the I-405. It took everything I had...
MOM, IT'S ME, YOUR SON, FINALLY
Modern Love Essay
A year after my marriage failed, and on the day before my estranged mother would have turned 77, I was flying into San Francisco for work. I had been back to the city many times since my childhood, but never in such a state of grief and confusion.
Austin Screenwriting Competition
The city sparkles under the warm afternoon sun. The mountains west and east, still snow-capped, are crisply defined against the deep blue sky. Clusters of sailboats, like so many little white shark teeth, cut across Lake Union and Lake Washington. It is one of those rare, perfect days when everybody on the streets seems happy.