Category: The Story

Disclaimer: I have a vivid imagination. That could be an understatement. Nonetheless, I have never doubted what I saw outside of my bedroom window in the summer of 1978. I remember hearing something outside (the window was open), an oscillating sound and when I got […]

I was driving up Arkansas Avenue, in Northwest DC, about to turn onto Georgia Avenue, so that I could return to the studio on Illinois Avenue, just a few blocks north. I was talking to myself… more like yelling, as I was dealing with some […]

Erica was “jumping ship” from the nine-to-five (seven-to-seven) at the World Wildlife Fund and joining me on this crazy boat we call Park Triangle Productions. She needed a headshot and some basic photos so folks would know who the new person in the company was. […]

I wanted to do something simple that represented my puerile propensity, particularly when it came to my creative endeavors. I’m trying to change the nature of such. I’m trying to grow up. It’s the hardest thing for me to do. I am still five years […]

I’m not certain about the first time I went to Park Playground, which was just down the hill from my house on Bessica Street. However, I do remember the configurations of my earliest visits to the park. A few times with my father, where he […]

I often imagine what other “intelligent” life would look like. I often “theorize” they’d be less organic and possibly highly amalgamated. The forces of nature do a spectacular job, but when the mind develops it starts to have ideas of its own. What we call […]

I think I checked out of high school a few months before graduation. Don’t get me wrong, I loved high school experience… the social aspects that is. After the Christmas break moving into 1990, I was ready to move on. I was ready for a […]

The smile and comfortable pose belies a world that was most certainly falling apart. I was standing outside the apartment belonging to my partner in crime, Clarence. I had drifted a ways away from the real reason I was at Hampton, which should have been […]

I’m guessing this was either one of three picnics: Westinghouse, Penn Hills or Peabody. I’m not sure any of three intersected. I guessed Penn Hills because of the lovely ladies posed with us (Andre and I) above. While they would have gone to Woodland Hills […]

There goes that pouty face I would exude when things weren’t going my way. I was beyond spoiled. At times it probably looked psychotic. Juxtapose my face to that of my brother’s, who would wield a full smile to counter my bratty energy. I’m grateful […]