NON-FICTION

 

Here are a few of my non-fiction endeavors, various musings about life in the vain attempt of seeming profound and reflective. They range from sad to funny to quirky, but if nothing else, they're honest. Click on the image to read the piece.

"My Bipolar Ex-Love"

This essay is about a tumultuous relationship in my 20s with a woman who was manic depressive. Nearly a decade later, I searched her name, in a vain attempt to catch up and apologize. The first thing that popped up was her obituary.

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"The Boston Anthem Singer Belts Out a Dream"

It was a thrill of my lifetime to catch up with my old college roommate, dear friend and the immensely talented Bruins' Anthem Singer Todd Angilly for this piece in BostonMan Magazine.

"My Battle with Man-Titties: One Man's Quest to Curb His Cup-Size"

We all have issues. In my early-30s, after packing on 20 lbs. in sympathetic pregnancy weight, I noticed the emergence of man-titties. This essay covers the battle between me and my man-titties that ensued. 

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"It Feels Smart in My Heart"

Here's a feature I wrote about one of my favorite places in the world, my local watering hole and home away from home. Chelby's Pizza is a one of a kind establishment.

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"The Misery of Fun"
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"An Angel in the Outfield"

I'm not a curmudgeon...not really. But I cannot take "prescribed fun." In this essay, published in As It Ought To Be, I try to explain the paradox. This piece was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Spoiler: I didn't win.

Baseball has always been sacred to me, and one afternoon, my friend Brian and I caught a New Hampshire Fisher Cats' matinee to celebrate the life of his brother Dace, who had passed suddenly during the pandemic.

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"It's a Panic Attack, Jack"
"Yoga Pants Nation"

My entire life I've suffered from crippling panic attacks. Here is a a piece where I try to explain something somewhat ineffable. 

I set out to write a satire about yoga pants, and it ended up inciting a veritable shit-storm that the editors at The Good Men Project titled "Yoga Pants-gate." This has the dubious distinction of being my most read and notorious piece of writing to date.