I’ve found myself in December again. At this time last year, I was pretty much completely fine: I was working a terrible temp job I hated, and I was constantly overdrafting my bank account, and I wanted to write a book and take some acting classes, but my lack of…

I have not particularly enjoyed the onslaught of “End of the Decade” content that has come across my feeds in the last six weeks or so. It’s mid-December now, two weeks to the finish line, and everyone’s year-in-review pieces are accumulating, coming quicker and heavier every day. …

There was no God in Price’s Landing. There was the saloon, where even the liquor bottles had nothing left to give. There was the schoolhouse, long since abandoned by the schoolmarms and bright-eyed children, sometimes used on Sundays for worship service when the weather was bad and flooded the church…

I felt a little bit sorry for my temp agency guy when he said the words “Marc Jacobs” and I did not squeal with glee. …

Now that I live off Roosevelt in downtown Phoenix, I walk past the Coronado twice a day, three or four days a week. Usually, there’s someone or something outside on the stoop: a cat with half a tail, or a man smoking his breakfast cigarette. In the afternoons, sometimes there…