2013

There are lots of apps that purport to protect our kids from the dangers of the internet – apps that filter websites, that let parents spy on their kids’ habits, etc. But I want something different. I want an app…

Heads up. My thoughts about sex addiction are evolving. Close readers of this blog know that I’ve struggled a bit with this question. I have written that, while there’s no such thing as sex addiction, I’m indistinguishable from an addict…

I’ve written a fair amount about the concept of sex addiction. Is it real? Can one be addicted to sex? What does “recovery” look like? Here are a few of my more substantive posts on the question. (My thinking on…

Sigmund Freud wrote of the “repetition compulsion.” The technical definition, per Wikipedia, is the repetition of “a traumatic event or its circumstances over and over again.” We all know it, in form, if not in function: it’s the tendency to…

Friends of T’s and mine bought me a bottle of Scotch. A really nice bottle of Scotch. Before I say much, know this about my whisky-drinking: I’m a boor. I know what I like, but am not a snob. I…

I’m off to our nation’s capital, by train. Amtrak makes track announcements about ten minutes prior to departure. Until then, passengers stand, faces upturned, staring at the sign on which track numbers are posted. Track numbers appear as they’re announced…

Does speaking add? That’s not really the right question: of course it adds. But does it also subtract? I like imagining that your mouth has only one purpose, only one use. And it’s not speaking.

Who needs a car? I love that travel here necessarily involves intimate contact with hundreds, thousands. For many, this overwhelms, For me, it enraptures. This morning, a woman – taller than I’m usually drawn to – walked before me. Her…

The scene: a weekend away with friends, and friends of friends. Three couples, five kids. Bikes, mopeds, puzzles, games. Grilling chicken, eating shellfish. Drinking too much, staying up too late. General relaxed, fun, never serious conversation. Apropos of nothing, Sarah,…

She’s tiny. Well under five feet tall. Brunette, wavy, shiny hair, hanging to her nipples. Strappy sandals, blue cotton minidress to mid-thigh. Green, piercing eyes. Round, small breasts, pressing against soft cotton. Why doesn’t she smile?