Okay, punk, are you now or have you ever been: a fag? a queer? a black? a chicano? a zionist? a commie? a jew boy?…
The Storming Bohemian has the flu. Fever, aches and all that jazz. Determined to remain punkalicious, I have struggled to write a column this morning…
Lately, I’ve been writing about my childhood. And before that, I was writing about my childhood. And years ago, as a child, I wrote about…
So, I start writing this column on a patio in Petaluma, listening to a set by the band “Fox & Woman” founded by friends I…
The Storming Bohemian will not be writing a column next week. Why? I am going on retreat at a Trappist monastery in the countryside outside…
I started out wanting to be an actor, went to school for it, performed in quite a few plays before moving on to means of…
Creative writing class. That is a phrase that evokes in me some very ambivalent reactions. I’ve taken a few, and some of them have been…
I’m stuck. Like a cheap truck in a swamp. Like a deer in the headlights. Like a senile actor realizing with horror that he has…
It’s raining outside of my cozy home in the East Bay hills. It is quiet here, except for the tap tap on the roof and…
Personally, I’ve not written much fiction. Scares me. Confessional poetry is more my game. Came to it because it seemed pretty accessible. How hard could…