To Austin, from Me

Looking down into the burnished black void that is the bottom of my deep sided cast iron skillet, the slowly heating peanut oil still a lake of calm, I find myself thinking again about a man whom I’ve never met. Austin Leslie. There is a beautiful symmetry in the name, a lilting four syllables. It […]

What happened to the words?

It’s been six months, give or take, since I’ve written anything here. For the past six months my writing has been confined to menus and produce orders and checks to purveyors and the interstitial tweets that occupy my still moments. My fingers are now searching for the keys, my mind for words and ideas. During […]


There is a slight tilt to the room — maybe more than a slight tilt. If you put a marble in the northeast corner of the room it would roll to the southwest corner with alarming rapidity. But as far as Creole cottages go this one is pretty sound.  It has stood here on Royal […]

The Ballad of John

Yesterday I learned, disappointingly, that not only did the invention of the flush toilet predate the existence of Thomas Crapper, but the use of the word “crap” to indicate evacuation did as well; I was left with an unavoidable void.  That this caused any distress whatsoever is probably a cause of bemusement or maybe even […]

Chances Are

It seems I’ve taken to writing about once a month.  That’s probably entirely too infrequently, but lately it’s all I can muster.  I seem to be suffering from some sort of spiritual ennui that my own manner of introversion exacerbates. More simply put, I feel overwhelmed, and more than a little disconnected. It is with […]