In recent weeks, I’ve come to many conclusions. One, yes, it’s easy to fall into the rut. It’s difficult to fight out of it. I’ve seen many of my co-citizens move into a city sanctioned tent city and protest the inequalities of the world. I’ve been having conversations in barsContinue Reading
Go home and make art. Go home and make love. Not necessarily in that order. If you cannot do those things, then do what your father told you to do and go to work and make money. I’m delusional. I still think there is a way to avoid all ofContinue Reading
Perhaps there is no real cure for ennui. Perhaps a person is just predisposed to boredom and chronic suffers have no choice. I’ve tried over the years to avoid ennui. I feel like many of my peers battle it too. I feel like a high stress job and job titleContinue Reading
I’m peevish these days. I’m peevish these days because I’ve been mired in the construction of chapter books. These smaller projects came about as I finished my novel Sand and Asbestos. I wanted to write something new, something different. In Search of Basho was born. I looked at the chapterContinue Reading
I’m not sure where or when the contempt began. I have my suspicions, but nothing is specific. I wonder if the contempt began slowly, unnoticed and small? The early seeds of my contempt began in 1999 and 2000 when on the advice of older and wiser people, I took toContinue Reading
I’ve recently wondered about all of this: the teeter-todder of a writer’s life. There are several aspects to this, so many more than just an up and down sort of motion. The question of “why?” comes up often in my thoughts. Why write? I ask this because it occurs toContinue Reading
It’s funny. I’ve decided not to read anymore. Well, although this is not entirely true, it certainly feels like this. The summer, has gone by in the normal fashion: hot days, short nights, plenty of work. Oddly enough, this summer has not been the torture for me that most summersContinue Reading
The sound. I can’t even trust the sound. There are too many sounds. There’s one of two bus lines populated with buses. They drive the fat people to work. There’s a timeclock to punch. I punched one once, for years. I entered through the employee entrance, punched one. It wasContinue Reading
I’ve known David Reid for years. I met him long ago when Reagan was still president, the Russians were sure to invade at any moment and the very notion that Haley’s Comet was on its way baffled us daily. I love David Reid as much now, if not more, asContinue Reading
Some amazing things began to happen for me at the end of my Rocket House days. I got a paying gig writing infomercial scripts for a pharmaceutical marketing firm. Up to this point, I had never endeavored to write for “the man.” After all, I am a creative type, theContinue Reading