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Unless the boy king’s back in town, there’s room in my galleries for those who know what they’re looking at. We’re trained to scan the floor for anyone at risk of mischief. I’m in the modern rooms most days; the playful, the subversive pieces gather here. Read the rest of this entry »

What must it feel like to know you’re being operated on. Hear the happy surgeons chat about vacation homes while they stab and reach inside you. Just a few steps from the diner door, the first blow paralyzed me. I fought my body as it fell, but couldn’t make it move. Read the rest of this entry »

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Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

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