Chicken Nugget

Still and ever

There was a time when kinfolk cloistered in Brooklyn brownstones or Omaha homesteads, Italian and Swedish singing across the clotheslines and generations. There was a time when Suite C was Suite C, and cats of a certain fatness stuffed the years like rollatini, together for (a) forever or (b) until someone slimmed their way elsewhere. […]

Baffling breakfast

There is so much we can’t understand. The strange communion between cats and sinks. The way fear can birth meanness or mercy. The existence of free will. The existence of “Is It Cake?” a program in which persons slice questionable items to determine the presence of pastry. Ourselves. Each other. Cats.