
You Don’t Detox Inside The Meth Lab
Christ. That is the single most accurate description of my life in the United States I have ever heard. I’ve been sitting here, in this Tucson apartment, wondering why I
Explore raw, unfiltered reflections on life, loss, identity, and love. From monogamy to madness, these real-life stories pull no punches — and they just might hit home.

Christ. That is the single most accurate description of my life in the United States I have ever heard. I’ve been sitting here, in this Tucson apartment, wondering why I

The table was high-tech for the time, aluminum frame and bright yellow plastic, a sun that never set in the middle of the dining room. I sat there, small, innocent,

I sat down with the analysis. The “Psychic Report.” The breakdown of the machinery that drives the man called James. And for the first time in a long time, I

I call her Hoodwink. I met her on a dating site, back when I was fresh meat in Tucson and didn’t realize that the “dating pool” here is actually a

I’m leaning against the bar, the ice in my glass is melting, and I’m looking at the exit sign. If you want the truth about how a man prepares to

The address was 2442 Hill Street, Huntington Park. But to me, it was just the white house with the red trim. The fortress. It sat there, solid and respectable, with

It’s a unique scenario, even for me. I’m forty-seven days from wheels up, and I’ve found a woman who only speaks Spanish and plays a game I haven’t seen since

I just got back from Phoenix, and my head is still ringing from the impact. I found this beautiful little Mexican woman—light-skinned, eyes like a fever dream—and we are currently

I’m sitting here, fifty-seven years of mileage on the odometer, packing a bag for a country I’ve never seen, and I’m thinking about a movie. Most movies are bullshit. They’re

First, I had to fire the staff. Black Pearl—or “Michigan,” as we called her in the office—had become a high-maintenance liability. It wasn’t just the sex; it was the goddamn

That Toby Keith song? It used to be a funny anthem I’d sing when I was drunk. “I ain’t as good as I once was, but I’m as good once

She used to stretch out in my bed like she held the deed to the mattress. Three times a day, minimum. It was a deranged cardio program that only two