Essays
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...
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 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...
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 publication:
The ones...
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...
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 the feeling...
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 Deadhead Cyclist pandemic
It’s often said that “every cloud has a silver lining.” This ubiquitous expression is typically rolled out in the spirit of putting a positive...
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,...
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...
Truth follows
A woman wept at the corner of Table Mesa and Harvard Lane, and all I could do was put my hand on her shoulder.
I...