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Needing a break from the onslaught of traumatic headlines, today I read an essay titled, “Why do we collect things?” It came from Substack in the weekly Cazadora newsletter by Elsie Morales, this one from August 27, 2025, and it resonated on myriad levels. This piece about “things we keep”  sprang from a writer who […]

No sooner did I write about the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) throwing a damper on the construction and operation of a detention facility dubbed Alligator Alcatraz in Florida last week, when the whole shebang of a shitshow resurfaced much closer to my new residence. Last week the dubious Department of Homeland Security up and

Last week a federal judge determined that the State of Florida and the current presidential administration—aka thug regime— violated the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) by building what’s known as Alligator Alcatraz, ordering the despicable state-run immigration detention center be dismantled. The uplifting legal ruling requires detainees at this horrific inhumane hellhole to be moved

This is a serendipitous story that goes back more than ten years, but ends up where I have landed most recently, in the White Sands area of southwestern New Mexico. On this Sunday morning, I decided to tackle unpacking two boxes of small, framed pictures and photos, because I have a lot of them from

I just read a headline that said, “DHS is a Menace,” and practically spit my coffee. My first thought was, Ya think? Also, isn’t that pretty much what I’ve been telling everyone since this dubious and ridiculous—and wholly unnecessary—new department of the federal government was formed in the wake of 9/11, back when its first

For months I’ve been traveling back to medieval times—as in a bit of time travel—in drafting the first scenes of my eighth Other Worldly novel featuring Rowan Layne, Alien Origins. Who knew that immersing myself in the world of highly misogynist medieval Scotland would be cathartic relief from current US atrocities? But here’s the ultimate

Something marvelous happened to me in New Mexico yesterday. Not to mention uncanny. Back in April 2021 while living in Nevada, my blog post honored Earth Day, noting that the celebration marks the birth of the modern environmental movement in 1970, and how I just might be more cautiously hopeful for the planet than I’d

This weekend was primarily spent focused on a seasonal 24-hour short story contest I’ve participated in for several years—this one being summer-themed, of course. The story prompt led me to write about a steep mountain trail, perhaps because I am now somewhat in the mountains (at more than 4k feet of altitude), and definitely surrounded

I’m still in transition these days after moving in late May from a battleground state to an (unfortunately) red county in a traditionally blue enclave that MAGA would dearly love to turn into a fascist cesspool. Hence, I could use all the glimmers of hope I can get to counter a lingering sense of angst,

I’ve lamented before about having already covered in my Other Worldly novels so much of the fiendish fascism happening in the USA during round one of this contemptible administration from 2016 to 2020, but this week in particular I was reminded of having written about it in my newspaper column when I lived in rural