My Father’s Eyes

This camping trip along the East coast of Canada was for my Dad’s 60th birthday. This fellow here is also having his 60th birthday. We stopped at this local market to use the bathroom and find out how much smoked salmon by the pound costs, because my Father was living off that shit cause he’s kosher and can’t eat un-kosher meat or un-kosher chicken plus he happens to love that shit, and we happened to notice this enormous beast of a lobster, which my brother can eat cause there’s nothing he doesn’t. We didn’t buy the lobster. He went back to his ‘life-with-many-roommates.’ But I thought I saw (for a split second anyway) my Father and this lobster make eye contact. Continue reading My Father’s Eyes


We had a smorgasbord of a picnic in this beautiful coastal town (Rimouski). Salmon, onions, tomatoes, english cucumbers, dried fish, olives, fresh baked bread, red wine, and Quebec cheddar. The sun was extremely hot while we watched the women, who sold us the dried fish and smoked salmon, try and sell yet another tourist a discarded styrofoam cooler for five bucks. I stepped in dog shit and used a plastic fork to scrape off what I could before getting back into the car.


Jared and I took a bike ride in the very early morning during our stay in the Riviere-du-Loup area. The bike rental was free from our hotel. There was a spider on my brothers bike. We went down hills with old houses and bed and breakfasts’ and mailboxes without a care in the world. The people really take care of their homes and gardens. The hotel, however, could have taken more care of their bikes because on the last stretch of our return home I attempted a wheelie and nearly pulled off my front handlebar.


This was at a National Park, I forget which, but we stayed in a Yourte and ate Wild Salmon with haricot vert, carrots, onions cooked on an outdoor fire. The results were superb. My brother is a fantastic chef, also it didn’t hurt that we (not Dad) got smashing drunk on red wine and scotch. I must have smoked a 1000 cigarettes on this trip.

Muddy Waters

I have officially inducted myself into the improv geek hall of fame. At a marvelous coffee shop in Burlington on Main Street, I scrawled on the bathroom wall…

When in doubt, “Yes, and…” that shit.

Del Close

I am aware people are going to read that and think Del Close said that in his life but I only realized that later in my hotel room. I initially wrote only the sentence. Had more coffee. Thought people wouldn’t understand it or even know where to look for an explanation. Then wrote Del Close underneath so people would at least have a reference point, that would explain the idea of being in a scene, or in life and being in doubt and not only going along with it but adding to it. Point is I geeked out and am excited about my improv class beginning in two days and the name of the coffee shop is Muddy Waters.

What do you think about while you’re swimming?

Cold. You’d think they’d be able to do something to heat the pool. Better stretch. Stretching in a Speedo. Beautiful. My stroke. Elongate the hands. Stretch the arm. Tilt the body like you’re on a skewer. Jackass in the Fast Lane. Can’t slow down. Not aware of swimming etiquette. Give his leg a tug.
People are nice in the water. On boats. Everyone says hi. It’s our roots. Much of the world covered. Nice pair of legs. Look better in water. Looking at girls in the water is like looking at girls when you’re intoxicated. I hum. Can anyone hear. I swim three times a week. My body would be a lot better if I didn’t eat so many cookies. Elongate the hands. Stretch the hand. Tilt your body like-I’m not eating at all next week.

Eric Justin

Woke up from a dream where I was unable to give a friend a warm welcome. He was excited to see me, I was not, he shook my hand, I did too, and as I did, there was the smallest little block that went up in my heart and mind. Like a “no.” He saw it immediately, let go of my hand and said, “it’s me, I’m quiet,” as if I were holding something back verbally from him and the strange thing is he’s right. In the dream I wanted to say something but I didn’t know what. He was looking me very close in the eye and the eye was very calm and warm and pleasant and again I shook his hand and something imperceptible happened within me (another “no”) like a face twitch or when you lose your voice before you say something and I couldn’t control it. It scared me that I could not control it and thinking about it right now I don’t know what I’d say to him. He was voted most attractive in high school. He once punched me in the face with a boxing glove. He promised me a job at his mom’s low-fat yogurt store D’Lights on the condition I would have a car to drive to and from work (I was 16) and never made good on it. We both shared an interest in the Anne Rice books in the 9th grade. He could be very warm and make you feel real special then in a moment treat you like a damn stranger.

Why I got kicked out of camp

It seems to be a good a time as any to let you know why I got kicked out of camp. It was sleep-away camp in Montreal. I was a counselor teaching drama. Not the head of the department but a member of the team. The head of drama was this pale gonzo looking woman with a crooked shnozz and ostrich-like features. She was an untalented bitch and I’m not sure who she blew to get to be head of the drama department but whatever. I was young, going into my third year of theatre school and thought I was going to be hailed as the next Laurence Olivier. One of the members of my team was a girl from my theatre program named Wendy. Another member was this girl named Jessica whom I wanted to bang. I walked around camp with my finger nails painted green, and a single daisy sticking out of my curly curly hair. These were the best days of my life. Then I asked some kid in class one day if he ever felt like touching his Mother and WHAM! BANG! FUCK ME!@@@! I’m in the owner’s private office with the camp psychologist.

DR: Tell me what you said. Continue reading Why I got kicked out of camp

“I’ve abandoned my boy.”

My son is in Texas with his Mother right now and I miss him so much I want to kill myself. I don’t understand how he can live without me. I don’t understand why he hasn’t purchased a plane ticket online and called me from LaGuardia.

He is so beautiful. He is everything. I am lost without him. I walk around talking like him. I walk through my job mumbling all the non-words he uses. “Babiss.” What is “Babiss” you ask? Everything. The air conditioner, the fan, the book, the cat, the pancake. Babiss! He’s reduced me to nothing. I’m half a man sitting with an open New York Post in my hands a vacant look in my eyes and non words on the tip of my tongue. I seeĀ  Continue reading “I’ve abandoned my boy.”

There Will Be Blood

I loved this film. There was no dialogue which revealed a quirkiness or action which revealed a zany-ness, shaky hand held shots making the footage seem more “realistic.” There was Daniel Plainview, a man who wanted to put people under his coal-laced boot. He was the constant. We followed him through town as he attempted to expand his success. I do not respect or agree with Daniel Planview. I did, however, enjoy watching him from a distance. I would never want to know the man, or invite him into my house.
Question. Why was I meant to see the short relationship between him and the man who pretended to be his brother? I’m guessing it was someone he could trust? Someone he did not see in direct competition with him, or someone he did not have to compete with (because he had nothing).