I hate committing crimes. I really do. It's scary and nerve-racking and guilt inducing and, well — wrong. This is why I fling myself headlong…
Posts published by “Flynn Washburne”
A while back in the Letters section of this august journal there was an ongoing impromptu forum discussing folks’ top ten literary pics. I enjoyed…
The holidays approacheth yet again as is their inexorable wont and there's nothing you can do to stop them. Can't slow ’em down, can’t skip…
I'm in a private prison now, after spending a couple of years at the notorious sinkhole Tehachapi. It's run by a company called Geo —…
I've never been one for heeding others' advice. I'll listen politely, acknowledge its validity, speculate on how to apply it to my situation with the best of intentions. But believe it: tell me the stove is hot and not only will I touch it once, but I will return and do it a few more times in case the first one was a fluke.
It was in early adolescence that I first began to feel as if I were disappearing — actually discorporating. At times I felt insubstantial, airy.…
When the money ran out, we packed up and headed back to the states. I confess I was a little sad to leave Paris and…
In the fall of 1970, my family — version 3.0 — was winging its way to Europe. To explain the “upgrade,” which it was in…
Here's what I've learned about doing time: you can't do years. Well, in retrospect you can, easily — that is, after you've done 'em. They're…