My friends nowadays know that I never Irish Exit — the practice of sneaking out of a party without saying anything to anyone. There’s just something about saying goodbye that matters to me. Maybe it’s like I’m bringing a micro-closure to every relationship that means something to me … you know, in case something happens,… Read More Dave’s Irish Exit
I know, I know. This is one of the weirder post titles I have on here. And I’ve had some weird ones … My mom was basically a professional shopper. She excelled at finding deals and cutting coupons, and she bragged to me about those times when she somehow finagled such a deal that the… Read More My Mom’s Last Bottle of Body Wash
It’s been almost a week now since we said goodbye to you, and I’m honestly surprised at how much more sadness I’m feeling for you than I felt for your Mama when we said goodbye to her. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, she loved hanging out with me way more than you ever wanted… Read More Bye, Biscuit
This post is not for those of you who wear MAGA hats — those of you who, as Trump bragged about eight years ago, would still vote for him even after he shot someone in the middle of the street. This post is not for those of you who willingly believe blatant lies that are… Read More It’s Time to Have Faith in Our Fellow Americans
For over 20 years of my life, I was continuously the strongest I’d ever been, as I steadily and measurably increased the weights I was able to put up at the gym. I remember how proud I was when I finally hit the 315 bench press milestone, where you cockily throw three 45-pound plates on each side of the bar and grunt your accomplishment for the entire gym to hear, if not see.
But then, a spate of upper-body injuries hit me, and I’ve spent the past eight years chasing the literal highs I once attained.… Read More This post is about radical acceptance
My mom died four years ago today. And I actually made it to 9:00 pm before remembering. Does that mean anything? Meh, who knows … The title of this post is a double-reference, to both this blog and my mom’s fruit trees. (It is not, however, a reference to my mom. No, that would be… Read More Resurrected
Learning how to lightly injure ourselves …
Happy birthday, mom. Or … well, happy belated birthday, since I lagged until way after midnight to post this. You would’ve turned 75 today. It’s weird … and sad … (well, mostly sad) … that I have at least another two decades to say, “you would’ve been X years old today,” every year on your… Read More 75
My band got hired to perform at a 50th birthday party last weekend. Birthday girl Ethel is one of our biggest fans, and she and her husband Richard have been to almost every one of our shows. In case you haven’t kept up with my musical shenanigans the last few years, the name of my… Read More Trolling the Birthday Girl
It was as though time had been frozen here since 1992 — the year I moved off to college. My parents left my childhood belongings virtually untouched for 30 years. For 30 years, I could go home to Irvine at any time (yes, I always referred to it as “going home”), peek into my bedroom,… Read More The Hardest Decision I Ever Had to Make
Because Valentine’s Day was four fucking days ago. What kind of slacker makes their annual Valentine’s exhortation four fucking days late? Certainly not me. And that’s why this isn’t a Valentine’s Day Post. Rather, I just wanted to share these two selfies from a couple weeks ago … Because these two pics pretty much sum… Read More This is Not a Valentine’s Day Post
While cleaning out my parents’ house, I found this letter my mom sent from Taiwan to my dad in the US almost exactly 43 years ago, down to the day …
It’s been over two years since my mom died, and I’m still baffled — literally baffled — by the things I end up finding meaning in. Someone offered to take my mom’s bedroom set today. This kitschy retro-looking rattan-like (but not actual rattan) dresser, chest, and headboard: I never expected that someone would actually want… Read More The Meanings We Find …
At 7:36 pm tonight — roughly an hour from when I’m writing this — it’ll have been two years since you died. I’m running out of things to write about you, but I still think about you every day. Every day, I walk by these photos sitting in our living room. And every day, I… Read More Two Years
Every time I’ve performed as part of Nightmare, I wonder what my mom would have thought of it.
I think she would’ve gotten a kick out of Nightmare. She was never into rock or pop music, but the sheer theatrics we put on — yeah, I’m pretty sure she would’ve enjoyed that.… Read More Something Bittersweet
I came across this photo last summer, when we were cleaning out my parents’ house … The only information I have on the photo is the date printed at the bottom — 7/17/2011. Aside from that, I have no idea where this was taken, or who the people with my mom are. Still, I really… Read More Random Photo, Random Thoughts
Happy birthday, mom. I still think about you every day.… Read More Happy Birthday, Mom
Whether you consider Trump leaving office to be cause for celebration or despair, I hope we all can agree that we still have a huge problem — namely, that a tangible segment of his supporters are Nazis.
I see so many conservatives using this caveat as a way to continue tolerating the presence of Nazis on their side, to weasel their way out of what I seriously hope is the deep discomfort that they are on the same side as Nazis.… Read More When the Nazis are on your side
My mom died one year ago today.… Read More Waves of Sadness
Today is the one-year anniversary of my mom’s death.… Read More One Year … sort of
Dennis Hong's Attic 