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My mother's side of the family were slave holding southerners. My fathers side were Jewish Holocaust victims. This story is my personal racial history, capped off with my own experiences of guilt, entitlement, and justice. 

My name is...


I wrote this story about five years ago after a solo Euro trip I took after a break up. I hope you enjoy, and possibly consider sharing my story with the other snappers out there.







Milo was a drunk. Milo was my Daddy, but I never called him Dad.  I called him Milo. Sometimes he woke up on Sunday morning and he made these great pancakes, a mix of nine flours, eggs and bacon grease, I think he made them for me in hopes...




The snapping turtle who taught me how to swim. (please see link below). Thank you.


I line them up before me on the marble counter, an orderly regiment of small brown and yellow cardboard boxes emblazoned with red Cyrillic letters that read Terpinkod.  Each box contains 10 little white pills neatly arrayed like soldiers...


Audio recording attached.


MP4 video downloaded


In 1991, my boyfriend and I graduated from the University of Notre Dame and moved to New York City; a big move for 21-year-old Catholic kids from the Midwest. Our families were fearful of muggings or shootings; we were fearless and ready to...


This piece was first performed at the Beyond Imagination Story Slam at the Cupcake Theater in Los Angeles. 




When a Brit, who you hardly know, invites you for a "wee pint" after work, take pause. I did not.