Essays
That ain’t gospel
Many moons ago, I had a mentor who liked to tell a story about an intern they’d once worked with. So...
Swimming with whale sharks
I’ve been riding my bike a lot, and we had tens of thousands of cycling miles between us, but I haven’t had...
Just a Dawdream
Bar 40 is assaulting my will to live.
I’ve spent two hours clawing away at this brief descending figure...
Boulder Weekly’s 6th annual essay issue
Welcome to Boulder Weekly's 6th annual essay Issue. Please use the following links to connect to all the essays in this years...
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...
A masochist’s love letter
I love telling the story of my wisdom teeth. Anytime someone mentions a tooth extraction or dentistry mishap, I weasel my experience into...
The garden
I sat on a wooden stool in my garden one mid-September evening enraptured by an orchestra of crickets. They sounded louder...
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...
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...
A portrait of the small town as a young man
I turned off my phone and put it in my desk. I quit Facebook, and closed my email accounts. I deleted my LinkedIn profile,...
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...
‘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....
