Early this year, Crankenstein said it had been two years since I last updated this site; it had actually only been six weeks. But now we’re coming up on nine months, and here I am, still with nothing to say — mostly because of bots and scrapers and ruthless tech oligarchs and the politicians who […]

This week I saw the MDS for another round of Botox injections. As we waited for the syringes to be drawn, she asked if the latest tweak to my levodopa had helped. It hadn’t made enough of a difference to impress her, and she again suggested I’d be a good candidate for a pump that

If I’d titled this “I’m Still Here… Damn It!” would anyone have gotten the reference? My country descends further into authoritarianism each day, my family of origin’s still a shit-show, and my so-called battle against YOPD remains a grueling war of attrition.* Little has changed in the months I’ve been silent here: I still borrow

This was adapted today from what was originally a short McCheese update on Friday night. It won’t be edited until Sunday afternoon. The no-writing-at-night experiment tripped me up two days in a row due to other obligations, but my schedule is empty next week and I’ll be back to terrorizing the populace soon enough. There’s

I’ve not wanted to talk much about YOPD lately, here or anywhere else, because it’s been kicking my ass in one new and slightly unsettling way, in addition to the old ones.* Since it’s easier to improve your mindset than your motor function, I’ve been trying to stay focused on the things I can change.

One of my weekly routines is to browse the Kindle Sales page on Amazon, looking for library inspiration.* If you can wade past all the Kindle Exclusive junk on offer — werewolf porn, Gone Girl knockoffs, hockey smut (gay or straight, puck and stick puns abound), get-rich-quick schemes — you’ll find more interesting titles than

Last night, while watching Jaws: The Revenge, I realized its risible tagline — “This time, it’s personal” — would also make a great slogan for the YOPD site I developed a couple years ago and still haven’t launched.* It also works as a title for this post, which will cover a hodgepodge of subjects I’ve

Muriel didn’t type this, its mistakes are all mine. If you find tennis content boring it will immediately put you to sleep, but an explanation of what’s going on with my hand (and why it’s driving me nuts) would be just as ponderous. Superstition has prevented me from writing much, if anything, about the women’s

We’re doing something a little different tonight. I’ll write an introduction and afterward of sorts, but the story was written by relatives who died before I was born. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a lonely young homosexual in possession of a Netflix subscription 20 years ago, must be in want of Carol Kane

Unedited, as you’ll notice. There is a classic Roseanne scene in which Jackie, Roseanne’s sister, attempts to gently deliver news of their father’s death to an elderly relative who can’t understand what she’s saying. Her agitation builds with each failed repetition and she coarsens her language and raises the volume of her voice until she’s