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Bun Done

Wasn’t that long ago she was feted for her looks. Men fawned. She knew what she had. Especially now it was gone. Reflecting on a life well lived she chastised herself. She could have done better. Her demeanor was comfortably square with the rigid bun, nary a strand loose, roomy slacks covering long slim legs while revealing nothing. The top something floaty in a block of color; demure, elegant, feminine. Until you se
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Tennessee Williams & Truman Capote

In the words of David Wolkowsky: Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams often fell out. One time they weren’t getting along Truman was writing stories for Esquire. These stories would become Answered Prayers, the indiscretions that would bar him from most of polite society. One of the stories was about a doctor at the Plaza Hotel and he had a hustler walking his dog, Tommy, meanwhile the hotel room was full of do
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Artists Reflected

In ’48 or ’49 Tennessee Williams visited Key West, Florida, where he found a fishing village with a Navy Yard full of beautiful young things. There were many reasons to stay. Despite the homophobia of the day and the random beatings it was worth it to him to tolerate these slights to his humanity. He wrote well here. He wasn’t wanted but he was undeterred. And the rewards were heaping, from the ocean swims, the routi
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Counterpunch

“You work out your demons your own way,” is what he did not reply to her most recent text, from out the blue, this after, long ago, she assured him if he needed anything she was there for him. He had suspected this was hogwash. She was doing this for herself somehow. To expiate some guilt from some other time perhaps another lifetime. Whatever, who cares. She’s trying to use him to rid herself of her demons. He
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Rae of Light

For medical purposes I again closed my favorite bar the one and only Green Parrot at around 4 this Sunday morning. Here’s the thing, my doctor tells me dancing is the cure for all that ails me. News got out that something special had come to town, so Friday at 10 p.m I felt obligated to saunter on over and judge for myself. I was already doing a jig as I made my way to the bartender to get a bottle of water and
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The Deep

The sailors knew they had a good one writhing on the line. The violence made the crude sailors cackle which was not sporting since the victim had no chance. But the fish worked every technique from slamming at the hull with mouth open and teeth flashing where it could gain no more purchase than a punch in the face, to returning under water, swimming deep and fast with a temporary sense of bravado. Except the hook cau
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Song Bird

  ‘Flash, right?’ She asked the man when he got off the stage. ‘Yes?’ Tall, tired, he smiled. ‘Where are the fans?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You’re the big musician in town. Where’s your following?’ ‘You can be my following tonight, what are you drinking?’ ‘Thanks but I’m going home.’ ‘Wanna ride?’ he offered. The car, every American boy’s dream, a convertible from the 70s, huge and wide-open like a boat
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Jasmine & Co.

  A year later he calmed down and was over with the rampage, his midlife crisis as he now referred to it. Later he would reflect upon those months and the women he had emotionally clawed as harshly as he could, avenging the demolition to his ego after the end of his marriage. When he thought about that era he chastised himself. And when he thought through the women he remembered every name and detail of the pile
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