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  • the last one with my name on it

  • anyone can start a podcast…

  • even if it is

  • A solid bit, an easy laugh

    “Running Gag”An original song by me, Paul Fidalgo. Lyrics: Alright, you know, how on Saturday Night Live they tell aJoke, a lot, until it isn’t funny anymoreWell that’s as good a way as any to tell You about myself and how I manage toRelate to those unfortunate enough to findThemselves involved in intimate relations with a Man who can’t…

  • hey look

  • building 13

  • the way the eyes of saints are painted

  • dang

  • This just came right out of the blue.

    A cover of Marshall Crenshaw’s “Tell Me All About It,” performed by me, Paul.

  • Like a sore thumb

    “Jut” An original song, written and performed by me, Paul. Lyrics: Back when I was lonely oh I could not comprehendWhy my species had decided that I was not one of themGot my diagnosis and I wrestled with my painI made friends with my weirdness, now I’m lonely just the same But perhaps I only…

  • Phrases as frenetic as a moth’s flight

    “Irregular Heart” An original song, written and performed by me, Paul. Lyrics: Nearsight unseenOur vitals had been phoned inWhen you chose me and I chose you Tonight it seemsI’m down to my last momentBefore this dreamResolves into a dew Negotiating terms in our parlayYou’ve taken all my crimes into accountI strain my ears in hopes…

  • I’ve got much to think about.

    My cover of Letters to Cleo’s “Here and Now.”

  • The Areas of Our Concern

    There was a thing I noticed when I absent-mindedly opened Twitter on my phone the other day. I say absent-mindedly because if I’m not using Twitter for work, I’m almost certainly doing it out of habit, not because I have something to say or am experiencing a sudden hunger for tweets. Anyway, the thing I…

  • The Big Thing

    About a year ago, I announced my intention to complete a major writing project that I had begun, and subsequently abandoned, two and a half years before. Publicly declaring my intention to finish this piece, “The Big Thing,” was a way to hold myself accountable. I was generously granted two weeks at a writers’ retreat and the…

  • Survival Mode

    It’s freezing. I can’t stop shivering. I’m in the middle of a snow-blighted wasteland, and everything is white, and it would be hard to tell day from night if not for the fact that night is much colder. My only source of heat is some threadbare clothing recently issued to me, that at least includes…