Tag Archives: James P. Perez

Chapter Fifteen

I had the pleasure of meeting some of the most colorful and varied people who were all linked by just one golden thread:  They all knew Jeb from one of his four phases in life.  He was similar in so … Continue reading

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Chapter Fourteen

I spent the better part of a year after April in bungled awkwardness trying to explain the unexplainable choices and beliefs, the experiment in exercising free will to a very diverse cross-section of the human population.  But the whole time … Continue reading

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Chapter Thirteen

“Really?  ‘Did he find god’?” “Yep” “Does god need to be found?” “I guess.” “He’s suppose to be omnipotent.  If he needs to be found, then something’s wrong.” I laughed.  I couldn’t argue with her logic. When Jeb and I … Continue reading

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Chapter Twelve

The spirits of the dead never seem to act the way we expect them to or the way we want them to. In fact, with the millennia of folklore, centuries of faiths, decades of Hollywood glamor, and years of personal … Continue reading

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Chapter Eleven

What do I write? “Fuck.” This is why I needed him.  This is why I need you here, you fucking fuck.  Out of the two of us I certainly had the ability to be more diplomatic and tactful, but there are … Continue reading

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Chapter Ten

Every year on the last Saturday in April the city of Austin has a party in Pease Park called Eeyore’s Birthday Party (“Eeyore” being the depressed donkey in the A. A. Milne ‘Winnie-the-Pooh’ stories).  What started as a spring picnic … Continue reading

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Chapter Nine

The next six weeks went by like a dream.  I didn’t see much of Jeb although I sometimes saw evidence of his being at my apartment – either that or I was going crazy.  Some things were definite, like the … Continue reading

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Chapter Eight

The months of January and February were dense with over-understanding, like being stuck in a block of someone else’s condensed air instead of your own.  No matter how I tried to move the friction of a million particles would rub … Continue reading

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Chapter Seven

After the fog of confetti died down from the New Year’s Eve celebration, I realized how much drinking was affecting my tolerance of alcohol.  The next day I was without even the slightest headache looking at my jeans that were … Continue reading

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Chapter Six

“So I went to the doctor yesterday.  He told me I have THE AIDS,” he says out of nowhere as if he were Johnny Carson starting a monologue. We are standing at the Bank of America ATM off 6th Street … Continue reading

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