essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: surfing

  • Full Moon at The Other Café

    My first night working at The Other Café – coffeehouse by day, comedy club by night – Robin Williams was in the house. I was in the kitchen learning to salt the chili so customers would drink more, when he grabbed me and tango’d me around the crowded floor — crowded with cooks, comedians, waiters,…

  • Stuck

    A neighboring sailboat was having trouble hauling anchor. It seemed to be stuck on something on the ocean floor. Supposedly there are a few shipwrecks in this anchorage. The neighbors tried dropping more chain. No joy. They tried hard reverse. Nope. They tried hauling from a different direction, and, eventually, they got loose and motored…

  • Birthdays

    We celebrated birthdays hard when I was a kid. Breakfast in bed, presents, queen for the day, and favorite foods for dinner (crab, sourdough, artichoke). In México, I garner a slice of banana pudding bread and a card from Maria, the kind server at my favorite eatery. So far I like ageing. Less tolerant of…

  • Thief of Peace

    Jealousy is the thief of peace. I’ve been on both sides of it, and I can’t recommend either. It twists your thinking into the most illogical of pretzels, and makes us behave badly – to ourselves and others. I used to throw tantrums when I caught my (alcoholic, abusive) boyfriend eyeing other women. Man. I…

  • Jimmy

    Jimmy disappeared when he was ten and I never saw him again. Over the years, he armored up with muscles and gangs, and escaped into drugs. When I returned to our mother’s house for holidays, he avoided me. Wrapped up in my own sorrows – a battering boyfriend, two abortions in a row – I…

  • V-Day

    It’s 2008. My best friend (yes, canine) had transitioned more than a month ago, and the loss was tremendous. I had to do something to express my continuing love for him. “Would you be interested in a guerrilla poetry action?” I asked a new human friend, Shannon, a talented artist. “Yes!” she said. And so…

  • Tedi Sato

    I had a big sister for two years. Her name was Tedi Sato. She was my fifteen-year-old babysitter when we lived in Santa Monica, and one day she came to live with us. It was wonderful! I was no longer the responsible elder, caring for my mother and brother. Someone else had joined the family…

  • Lost & Found

    Plop. Oh my god. The phone dropped in the water. I stare a moment in disbelief, then jump in after it. Straight down, I think. Look straight down. But I don’t see it among the rip-rap rocks below Dock 8, under the tied up kayak. My heart is pounding and my breathing shallow. I can’t stay down long and can’t see…

  • Shift

    I am biking from Venice to my job in Santa Monica as office manager for an animation studio. I am pedaling fast as usual, intent on the destination, not the journey. It’s an old ten-speed, with lever gearshifts set below the handlebars. After gaining momentum, I shift up, and the lever breaks off. The piece…

  • BE

    “What do you do all day?” The question comes from an older female paddleboarder while I’m on deck readying the kayak for an excusion to the swimming hole. The question irritates me, just as when a marina-mate asked it in Mazatlán. “I’m a writer,” I reply, tying Audrey’s line to the blue halyard so I…