I can’t really picture it…
But then, I can’t really picture anything. I have no visual imagery, no ability to conjure up at will an image of a face or a landscape. I have no ‘mind...
Category: the writing life
Beat me with your lyric stick
Garbage is beautiful; we all know that. While I completely missed their 2001 release Beautiful Garbage I am sure that it lived up to the title, especial...
Writing for real
My pen is moving every day now. I have filled nearly two dozen comp book pages in the last month (a prodigious rate for me at least), and the ink bottle is ...
Here’s blogging at you, kid!
What is so unusual about this latest drought here on the blogs is that I have been writing, actually writing, at a fairly steady pace this entire time. M...
Returning to my vomit
I have for some years now been trying to read a book entitled A Dangerous Profession by Frederick Busch. It is, as its subtitle takes pains to indica...