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Day two without smoking, and something unexpected has happened. Peace. Whiskey Kitty has been surprisingly calm. Instead of her usual morning campaign of paws, whiskers, and tiny chaos, she now just waits for me to wake up. Sometimes she slips into bed during the night and curls up beside me like a warm little anchor. The change might be simple: I’ve been leaving her more food before bedtime. A full cat, it turns out, is a peaceful cat. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere. Stability calms the nervous system, whether you have whiskers or a nicotine habit. Today wasn’t...

There was a time when my life ran with a crowd. Friends everywhere, meetings, gatherings, a tribe around me. Noise, movement, constant connection. Then last year the bottom dropped out. I came close to homelessness, drifting through streets and halfway houses, living a life that was more survival than living. That kind of journey leaves a person worn down. It wasn’t just the loss of stability. My health has taken some heavy hits too. These days my world is much smaller, and honestly, much quieter. I stay home. I rest. I recover. And I take care of Whiskey Kitty. She...

What seemed like a typical day turned into something else entirely — an unexpected spark of inspiration and a quiet but firm dedication to quit smoking. The morning began the way most do lately: Whiskey pouncing, biting, and licking me awake with all the chaotic affection a kitten can muster. There’s something grounding about being pulled into the day by a tiny creature who depends on you. No past. No future. Just now. I did have one or two puffs this morning. Habit more than desire. Muscle memory. The ritual of it. Then this afternoon, I got a call from...

This morning began with the unmistakable alarm clock known as Whiskey Kitty. No snooze button. No mercy. She launched onto the bed with full enthusiasm, alternating between playful bites, enthusiastic licks, and the unmistakable message: Wake up, human. Life is happening. I tried to sleep in. Whiskey disagreed. Once I surrendered to the day, I turned my attention to another challenge: booking a hotel for the LA Times Festival of Books at USC. This event matters to me. It’s part of the bigger picture, the growing list of art and book promotions I’ve committed to this year. But the universe...

Today’s entry steps away from the daily stories about Whiskey Kitty and into heavier territory. This is one of those days when the curtain pulls back and the stage lights feel very bright. I’m facing three potentially fatal illnesses. That has a way of focusing the mind. When your body starts sending serious messages, you don’t just think about the future. You think about the past. You start asking the quiet questions. What have I done with my life?Who have I helped?Was I a good man? The answers don’t always come wrapped in sunshine. I haven’t always been a good...