Where to direct the blame

RANDY OSBORNE

is an Atlanta-based writer formerly from the San Francisco Bay Area -- can we say "a San Francisco writer"? He's no Saroyan and he lived across the bridge from the city proper -- who previously has resided near Chicago, in St. Louis and the mountains of southwest Colorado.

He has worked as an editor/writer for more newspapers and magazines than he likes to think about, really – where did the time go? – including alternative publications such as Creative Loafing in Atlanta and The Riverfront Times in St. Louis. His work has appeared in the Chicago Tribune, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, The Progressive magazine, Nature Biotechnology and others that include www.salon.com and www.playboy.com.

In the awards department, he has been adorned with obscure but enormously appreciated honors. Ever hear of the James Nash Memorial writing award (St. Louis)? Of course not. How about the one for “community fiction” from Clark Atlanta University? Fine. He's also been bestowed various recognitions from the Illinois Press Association for writing and photography. The whole thing has been pretty much a blur.

He enjoys food, wine, literature and crystal methamphetamine. No, make that "long walks and good conversation." He has a peculiar bump near the tip of his nose, off to the right side. It's been there since adolescence. People stare at it and try to act like they're not. He wishes he had a dog. He believes the almost Halloweenish color scheme he chose for this website captures the autumnal sense within his soul. He is apt to spout something ridiculous like that at any moment. He wants the dog to be a large dog.

The fall is his favorite time of year. Is it yours?  He might not be any Saroyan but he can write like a son of a bitch once he gets going. He is working on a book, a collection of interwoven true stories.

Meanwhile, he has finished a big fat collaborative book called Made of This to be published soon with Gianni Simone, an Italian mail artist living in Japan. Randy's putting together another chapbook/zine of poetry (not his own) and prose (his own). He lives with the artist and photographer Joyce Mitchell, who helps with everything, and with whom he will be collaborating further, and not only in the way you think. He loves her immensely.

Autobiographical matter is always suspect, with a risk of the recorder either glorifying or debasing himself beyond all fair measure (or doing one under the guise of the other, which confuses things even more). I'm doing my best over here.