Essays
The bikini
I remember the first time I felt fat. I was 7 years old, and so excited to spend the day at the pool. I...
The quick and the dead
I was 16 years old when
my father asked me if I wanted to be a hero.
The year was 1999, ’round
about late April, and Dad...
The ones we let in
I’m not a pet person. It’s not that I don’t like animals. Like people, it just takes me time to warm up to them,...
2021 in the rear-view
The space-time continuum seemed to warp this past year, contracting and elongating: While the post-election, pre-insurrection days when election truthers seemed crazy but not...
Coming of age in an altered world
In March of 2020 I was studying abroad in Barcelona, Spain with a group of friends, enjoying Europe in the way only a careless...
7th annual essay issue
Every year around this time, Boulder Weekly publishes a collection of essays written by the people — editors, publishers, contributors — who put out...
In defense of burning books and abalone
Some books should be burned. At least one book should be burned. That book should be Ulysses.
THE WRONG MOLLUSK
I was at the Kapi’olani Farmers...
A long ugly story
Sometime in the fall of 1979 I got a phone call from a friend of my older brother. He wanted to know if I...
Stones of remembrance
The side table drawer in my grandparent’s Arizona living room was always full of playing cards. There was the deck with Van Gogh’s self-portrait,...
‘Cold or not, God is present’
I think about the shoes.
I think about the shoes; 60 of them, lined along the east bank of the Danube River in Budapest, Hungary....
Naked Belief
My favorite professors were the ones who’d set me up a space heater before I arrived. Even in the early fall months, just as...
The hidden path
I called a good friend heartless this year. Who have I become?
I’ve always prided myself on being a rational, reasonable person. I don’t offend...
