Saturday, May 15, 2021

Shakespeare in the Shitter

I'm a connoisseur of men's room graffiti. One of the best parts of going out, really.

That cryptic, inside ridicule that only comes from drunken lack of censorship. 

The grammatically incorrect hubris over the reader's phallic inferiority.

And most of all, a calling out of all our moms.

I especially love the dialogues unfolded over months and years, each contribution in a new font, like a pre-internet chat thread on who's doing what to whom (and their mom).

Everything so concise due to pressures of time and smell. Obnoxious, hurried haikus.

Does any of this happen in the women's room?

You can gauge the quality of a place by its patrons' messaging. I'd much rather hang out in the joint featuring "Mary Poopins," "The Logfather," and "Forrest Dump" than the one stating, "Seth rulez and wuz here." (I've heard some really nice places don't even have anything scribbled on the walls.)

People want to express themselves and, given a venue, they will. 

Now that we've all got one in the palm of our hand, I miss the days when you had to venture out to a restaurant, bar, or club and then answer nature's call to happen upon the random tabloid musings of anonymous America, like finding a coin on the beach.

With so many walls on which to incessantly post, the virtual world has turned that beach coin to hot sand in our shoe and sent the quality of our collective discourse straight down your grandmother’s moldy butt crack.

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.

Monday, February 15, 2021


Before COVID-19, we were in an awful hurry to digitize every relationship. Texts replaced talking, kids faced a computer more than their teacher, and love was reduced to an algorithm.

After months in quarantine, we're burned-out blue from more screen light than sun. Demoralized by login errors and connection failures. Alienated by a grid of familiar faces we can see but not touch.

Pay attention to these feelings. Sit with them. Let it all sink in.  

Because now is our century’s chance to rethink this virtual wish come true.

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.

Saturday, November 28, 2020


Flash is not a pet and not just a cat. He’s a person, and he’s my son.

As with many parents, we adopted because we wanted a family that we couldn’t make from scratch, and someone out there needed one.

That first night was a marathon of tense uncertainty. Lots of pacing, crying, and questioning if it was a good fit.

A year later, we’re all resting easy. He recognizes that, while we don’t look like him, we are his tribe (though his dad also wears black all the time). Through us, he’s learned that the world is loving, life is beautiful, and people are cats too.

Like any adolescent boy, he plays ball, fights with his tortoiseshell sister, and has assigned chores, which in his case is to patrol all corners and crevices for any trespassing flies or spider crickets unaware of the new sheriff in town. We keep count of his apprehensions on a chalkboard in the kitchen. He’s up to twelve this week.

Now Flash isn't going to university or continuing anyone's family name, but nurturing that sleekishly effervescent lifeforce to its full cuckoo-bananas potential is legacy enough for us.

And who knows: in a karmic future life, maybe he shepherds us to safety, takes care of the litter boxes, and celebrates our fleeting-but-brilliant starlight.

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.

Saturday, October 3, 2020


The deadliest pandemic in a century—and half the country won't wear a face covering in some perverted twist on American exceptionalism.

As the cloth comes off, our collective character is revealed: the nation that weathered The Great Depression and then buried the Nazis currently worships a fascist while throwing petulant temper tantrums over following temporary hygiene protocols.

Such a fragile superpower, after all. 

America unmasked. 

Where will we go from here, now that we have seen ourselves?

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Underdog Rising


Fortune is cruelly compassionate. Over there, someone is born into the lowliest caste of untouchables, forever relegated to the bottom regardless of personal potential. Over here, a talentless trust-fund recipient rises to prominence for doing nothing in particular.

Someplace between lies existential justice. In this space, the daughter of an immigrant day laborer finishes school and builds a great business. A barefoot toddler on a dirt-and-rubble field kicks his way to the World Cup. The oldest, ugliest mongrel at the kill shelter gets adopted.

We need these righteous success stories to balance out the Anne Franks and Kim Kardashians of the world. To remind us that life is fair sometimes.  

And that it’s worth sticking around to see how it all ends up.

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.

Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Enjoying Thy Blow Job

A leader inspires a movement; a king colonizes.

Then, as the aristocracy drains and guzzles the life blood of its people, the leader builds up the masses by enabling their potential.

And when society is equitable and self-sustaining at last, that leader will fade gracefully into the background, while His Highness—entirely preoccupied with his own runaway gluttony—climaxes in pandemonium.

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.

Friday, May 1, 2020

In A Good Place

Is it close by? Walkable if happy hour gets hysterical?

How’s the lighting? What’s playing over the sound system?

Is the staff glad to see you (even when they’re not)?

What’s on draft? Do they mix them strong? Are their wings any good?

It’s important to find a regular place. That coveted third space apart from the job and home where you can be still, catch a buzz, and pass some slow, simple time in a bubble of atmospheric community.

For some, it’s pint-fueled commiseration in a dank, dark pub. For others, uplifting cocktails in a glass cafĂ©.

Wherever it is, when you connect with souls who’ve adopted the same venue, you bond through that beloved geography. Sometimes with characters you couldn’t stand in a meeting, subway, or checkout line.

Members of an easy club, postponing tomorrow until closing time.

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*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.