Category: The Word from Pandora’s Tavern

A knock on the door. This is a dream. I or whoever is playing the role here opens the door. Farrah Fawcett is standing there with a big angelic smile. I or whoever is...

Sometimes I reminisce about places I used to live. Maybe you do too. The older I get, the more it happens: For no reason, I’ll just start thinking about the house I grew up...

Dour Hour down at Pandora’s Tavern. A first-time visitor lifts his mug and takes a sip. He winces, he swallows, he growls: “This beer tastes like an obituary!” Bartender says nothing, continues philosophically wiping...

“What thou lovest well remains”: Orchestra, Cocktail Lounge, Dancing Trees.

The ancient Greeks practiced something called cledonomancy, a form of divination via random remarks. The way it works is you stick your fingers in your ears, then head out into the marketplace. At a...

Rip Van Winkle slept here. Perhaps he still does. No excavations were conducted.

So called things have lives as well. They too get put away and forgotten. Sometimes in plain view.

I was inside a place in Vermont. I took this picture because the picture on the wall depicts what the place looks like on the outside. I really wanted a picture of the outside but...