This is our country now, this is our lives. I saw a flag on a house that does not usually fly one. An elected official lives there. I voted for her, hell […]
In my neighborhood…
Dan Ryan
Dan Ryan is a photojournalist and poet. You can see more of his work at Brisbane Graphic Arts Museum (http://brisbanegraphicartsmuseum.
com), and on Flickr (https://www.flickr.com/photos/brisbanedanryan/). He lives in Brisbane, California.
Dance class
His name is Joe and we were both in the same waiting room at Kaiser Permanente in South San Francisco. He caught my eye because he was so nicely-dressed, looking much classier […]
One need not catch them all
The game doesn’t matter, people do… I’m not a fan of the Pokémon franchise, I don’t play the mobile game, and don’t intend to start doing so. Still, without even trying at […]
Here’s to Henry
Bukowski would have been 96 today… How do I pay tribute to a man who both enriched and destroyed my life? If I had never read his work I’d be less of […]
Be this guy
A dad with grace and humor for #HopeTuesday… She was chewing on a French pastry, he had her pacifier in his mouth. I’m not a dad so I don’t know how these […]
Determination
Snack it up on human moments for #HopeTuesday I don’t know about you, but my Facebook and Twitter feeds are saturated with links to media coverage of the race to the White […]
Jasmine and Buddy
The streets don’t care if it’s the 4th of July… She was sitting on a Japantown sidewalk, on Webster Street around the corner from Nijiya Market. She looked displaced, like a woman […]
I am broken
Alcoholism sucks… I am broken and I have been for many years. I’m not some toy you can take back to Hasbro and say “This fucking thing is fucking fucked up.” They […]
“Tokyo in the Underbrush”: ArtsWeek
Pictures and poems from Japan’s bubble years… Introduction In January, 1987 I graduated from Lehigh University with a B.A. in journalism. By the first week of March I was in Tokyo, Japan […]
Squinting at another reality
She was shuffling around Nakamise Dori, the shopping boulevard that leads to Sensō-ji in Asakusa. She touched a lot of elbows trying to speak to people who pulled away and ignored her. […]
