N. Likes

Intense Debate is intensely aggravating, and I’m thinking of ditching it — even if it means losing every comment to date.

She’s sitting four feet from me, and we’ve never spoken a word.

My holy grail, and the several obstacles to its achievement.

Craigslist ads, dubious correspondents, and the question of what turns me on about a story that may well be entirely fictional.

A woman in a shop window stops me cold.

She wants me to write about her. But I write about what I think and what I do — and she’s not quite either.

When all you can do is feel, everything I do becomes a surprise.

A little role-reversal fantasy in which the boss gets what she deserves.

I want to know what you want to read.

I have known monsters. They’re good, decent, kind, loving people.