Notes from the Red Bird House

When I learned that a friend's daughter was having some 'issues' with her liver, I made a quick no-brainer decision. If she needs it (and if we are a match, of course), she can have part of mine. I'm an organ donor, or so it says on my drivers' license. I'm a big believer in giving away what you have that you no longer need or want, especially if someone needs or wants it more than you do. I've given away clothes, furniture, and money over the years. I live by the creed 'what's mine is yours' and I walk my talk as best I can. So when I heard about my friend's daughter, the decision was easy. I know it's not an old sweatshirt or a couch or $100, but I don't need my whole liver (they say they grow back, kind of like a lizard's tail) and she might could really use it. My liver's a good one, slightly worn and a bit finicky at times, but she'll get the job done. The poor girl in need is barely twenty-one. She hasn't even

                It wasn’t how I planned to spend my Friday night. Red wine with Erin. I hated these nights. I hated a lot of things, if I was being brutally honest. In no particular order – red wine, ugly breakups, my uncomfortable sofa, poetry (God, I hated poetry), selling cars, being broke. I could go on and on. Erin, though, always tried to get me to see the sunny side of things. I suppose it’s what best friends are for. This particular Friday night, I was ready to fuck the sunny side of things.  I told her as much.                 “Fuck the sunny side, Erin. I mean fuck it. Really fuck it. I can’t do it this time.”                 “You damn-well will do it. That girl wasn’t good enough for you. She cheated on you and lied constantly. Lied. She wouldn’t know the truth if it bit her on her bubble butt of an ass. I mean I can condone the cheating to an extent… But the lies.  You know what I say to that.”                 Lying Liar Pants. That’s what Erin would say. And I k

"Falling feels like flying 'til you hit the ground..." ~ from a cool country song by Chris Stapleton I'm eighteen days away from my forty-eighth birthday and I have to say I don't recall ever approaching a birthday or the start of a year as positively as I am this one. I truly feel like the best part of my life is yet to come, my best stories as yet unwritten.  I guess I'm just in a good place, though I have no idea how I ended up here. I have goals, plans, dreams, a mission. A novel nearing publication. The creation of  "brand". More graduate school. Plans for a new life's work that doesn't require wearing an orange apron. A job I can tolerate in the meantime. Fast runs. A solid backhand and confident volleys. A vacation decades in the making.  It's not always easy, though some may think I make it look pretty easy. I go non-stop all day, every day because you don't get something from nothing. And I'm kind of afra