(If you are new to this blog, a good way to read it is to start with the very first post, “It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.”  This is a memoir, the story of my life.  If you are offended by expletives, you may want to skip[…]

A year passed, and we were still living with the guy I met at work…the one who rescued me from Michael the Archangel.  We just sort of settled in, pretending to be a family.  Except for flinching every time he tried to put his arm around me, I[…]

Michael the Archangel and I had finally found our way back to Los Angeles.  His mother had allowed us to temporarily move in with her.  She already shared the three-bedroom bungalow with her elderly mother, who had lost a leg lifting a car off of a six-year-old girl. […]

A chance meeting through a friend of a friend.  Our eyes met across a crowded room (well, I think there were five of us).  Soon we became the perfect little hippie couple.   At the end of it all,  I would be completely mad.  It would take a decade[…]

Another hot, muggy morning in the City of Angels, smog so thick my eyes burned.  I wiped away another streak of black eyeliner running from the side of my eye and kept walking, keeping time with the jingle bells hanging from the end of the two leather strands[…]

A simple choice, really.  Walk to the bottom of the hill, cross the street, and stick my thumb out to hitch south to Hermosa Beach, or, keep trudging down the hill with my arm out towards the street, my thumb hooked forward, hoping some poor soul would be[…]

Certain events can change a life in an instant.  On the other hand, some things take place over time.  Many tiny miscalculations or silly decisions create a chain of events, and suddenly you find yourself staring in the mirror at someone you no longer recognize. I had fled[…]

Playing dress-up with my new hippie  friends was lots of fun and all that, but on the inside I was unraveling. Peace and love, along with rock and roll, just wasn’t cutting it for me.  It all seemed like a counterfeit for something else, something more authentic.  I just[…]

I woke up to the sound of rain on the window.  I had cracked it open before I went to bed and the air filtering into my apartment was damp and smelled sweet.  I turned over and tugged the blanket up over my shoulders, attempting to recapture a[…]

Whenever I tell the story about my marriage at sixteen, I always feel the need to say, “…and I wasn’t even pregnant!”  It seems as crazy to me to have gotten married at sixteen when I wasn’t pregnant as it does to everyone who hears the story.  I[…]