Batmish, it’s time. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. DAMN IT.

I’ve summoned my skeletons, and they’ve appeared. …But the rest is up to me. I have to enter the fray. Fuuuuck. I was Dad’s signature. Always. In the end I was technically his signature. The signer on all his accounts. Because I took care of him. When he wanted to shuffle cash from one card…

I was not always called Serene

I was not always called Serene, although it is my legal name. For the first five years of my life I was Tami. This is the name I first heard myself called; it is the name I first learned to write.

The TAMI Show Award mock-up

I posted this privately awhile back, before the world became consumed with the intrigue of what had always been the most useless of my obsessions: Russia. The post wasn’t secret, just detached and something I wanted to time right, I suppose. I haven’t even proofed it. Just scanned it. The fact that I didn’t publish…

Ninety Years Ago Today My Father Was Born

Then turned on one toe, hopped off the huge wooden table and started off, head high, when I heard him slap the table hard with his big hand – the way everyone who knew him remembers he did in his constant, big-ness that encompassed all sight, movement, and certainly sound – and laughed his ass off.